


Improvisation Only

by ValkBlue (ValkAngie)



Series: Full Diagnostic [1]
Category: Westworld (TV)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, Angst, Friendship, Gen, I also love horses v much and it shows, Kinda?, Season 1 Compliant, Slow Burn, Strong Language, Technobabble, but its relevant technobabble, friends to even more friends at least, season 2 divergent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 02:15:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28217577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValkAngie/pseuds/ValkBlue
Summary: Being a Behavior technician requires a certain amount of dedication to the job — the rigorous type, bordeline rigid. That’s what is expected to be at peak efficiency regarding analysis protocols and diagnostics for host service and calibration.For that, Vivian thinks she might be the worst tech in her department.
Series: Full Diagnostic [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067126
Comments: 8
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hathorik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hathorik/gifts).



> This is a complete work so I'll post chapters regularly, but I'm not sure of the schedule yet. This first chapter is an intro to the main character and what she does, and I hope you’ll enjoy this story and its characters all the way!  
> You can also find it and art from it on my tumblr: https://valkblue.tumblr.com

Now wasn’t a good time to yawn…

And yet, Vivian had nothing else to do but wait right now, wait while the progress bars slowly filled up on her tablet screen. Now wasn’t the time, simply because some of her colleagues were passing through the hallway, behind the glass panels of her cubicle, and among them was the head of Behavior department — incidentally, her superior. No doubt they were all about to grab a bite at the restaurant and Vivian held back an almost envious mumble; she was starving! But before she could go eat anything, she had to finish with her last subject on her morning schedule; host ID#DH410829420391, named Mildred.

And _Mildred_ was back at the lab on account of a negative report about her response time during interactions with other hosts but also with guests. A lag that only happened in _character mode_ , not in analysis. So, Vivian started with refreshing her lexical base and improvisation engine. It took some time to check the entire tree but as of now, it was done.

"Can you confirm if the update’s complete?"

"Confirmed," Mildred answered right away, her voice flat and her look vacant.

"Back in character mode."

Mildred seemed to wake up and blinked once before focusing her attention back on Vivian.

"Mildred?"

"Oh, I’m sorry," she answered with a hint of a shy smile. "I must have drifted off, I believe… The working hours at the farm are ungodly sometimes!"

The response time was more than good, now. The improvisation too.

"I was wondering if there’s a lot of clients at the farm these days," Vivian asked.

The answer was not long to come.

"Certainly! Our cattle sure gives the best milk there is. No matter what the competition says!"

"How many green bottles are standing on the wall?"

Questions and procedures were always more or less the same to determine which bits of code, settings or values could cause an issue or start to glitch like crazy!

But today, for Mildred — and Vivian — everything was back in order, and each/both of them could soon return to the the usual course of their scheduled day.

It was about time for Vivian to take a break, if she was reduced to that kind of wisecrack…

A glance at her wristwatch, even while her tablet displayed a more accurate time than the watch hands, and Vivian concluded her analysis. She folded the tablet, slid it back in her jacket pocket, and left the large glass room after one last embarrassed look at Mildred she was leaving there, naked in the dark. Vivian didn’t even fight down a shiver. It was actually freezing cold in there!

She comforted herself with the thought that Mildred didn’t feel anything in this state, disconnected, and that a team wouldn’t take too long to come get her, do her hair, dress her up and put her back in rotation in no time. Barely as much as Vivian had for her lunch break… and that was just enough to go all the way up to the hub restaurant. But the bosses here didn’t care much about how long the lunch breaks lasted, as long as the work was done in time.

So, Vivian didn’t hurry to get to the elevator she shared with two co-workers who only interrupted their chitchat about hockey results for a vague greeting.

*

At this hour, the restaurant was a bit more crowded but it still wasn’t too hard to find a seat in the large and relatively peaceful room. The whole vibe in it was corporate though, even in that _staff only_ room; every dish were stamped with the park logo and name — from the bottom of the plates to the salt shakers — and a flat HD screen displayed a bunch of Delos branches ads that looked much weirder without sound. After a while, one didn’t really pay attention to all this anymore… A few months was enough to make it all part of the landscape and for the mind to simply stop noticing it. And Vivian had been working here for three years, now.

However, she was still bothered by a few details sometimes, such as the huge white walls that spanned all the way up a balcony floor and a domed ceiling or the fact that the stalls were lit with a pale light under which the food turned to a sickly colour. Hopefully, under the less saturated lights of the main room, the Caesar salads and the turkey-tomato sandwiches were back to a more appetizing hue. Her tray loaded with a potato-corn salad, a big glass of water and a piece of bread, Vivian walked towards the tables, eager for her potatoes to lose their blueish glint. Just shy of the screen, she recognised a familiar face, Margaret’s, another Behavior tech from her team. Both were on friendly basis now, where it was possible to enjoy some time together and to laugh a little, even if it took them a whole year to finally break the ice. Margaret waved at Vivian when she saw her pick her way across the room, inviting her to join them — _them_ being Margaret, and three other guys from their department.

"Did you hear the latest, Vivian!?" she blurted. "I’ve been told that Damon Dyers is in the park, at this very moment!"

"Damon… Dyers?"

Vivian didn’t even hide her puzzlement while sitting in front of her.

" _The actor_ ," one of the three guys — Luke — pointed out. "Marge was just exposing how she’ll mooch the control room techs for a footage…"

"Listen, if you were as thirsty as I am about this guy, you’d understand!" Margaret replied.

To that, he quipped:

"My husband would be pissed!"

All chuckled in approval before returning to their almost emptied plates, while Vivian had barely touched her own.

"Can you imagine," Margaret daydreamt, leaning back in her seat as in a comfy armchair, holding her Pyrex glass like a snifter of bourbon. "Damon hunting down Escaton in the hills…"

Vivian scoffed; she could imagine, indeed.

At the table, Charles, Thawal and Luke didn’t pay any more attention to them, carrying on with their chat about _retro gaming_. Vivian would probably have preferred to be part of that conversation; not that she didn’t know shit about movies and their actors, but more like aside from a few exceptions on which they got along swimmingly, she didn’t have much taste in common with Margaret. But she listened to her friend anyway as she kept going after a sip of sparkling water:

"How am I not supposed to be hot on the idea!? I’ll deadass find someone to bootleg me some footages!"

Vivian smiled out of politeness, not saying much, as always. Her mouth was full anyway.

"Oh, by the way!"

Margaret took another swip of her glass before putting it down on the table and leaning towards Vivian.

"Apparently, they’re going to burden us with a whole new bunch of hosts in two or three weeks," she said, with all the serious she could muster. "I heard that from Elsie. Narrative must be trying to compensate for something, if you know what I mean…"

Vivian knew very well.

"We barely have time to light a fag between two sessions already and they plan to add another hundred on our backs!?"

She snorted disdainfully.

"Don’t know what they’re spicing their coffee with but it isn’t doing them any good."

"No shit," admitted Vivian, a bit testy at the idea. "Unless they also plan to hire? Did Lowe say anything about it?"

Margaret shrugged.

"No idea, I haven’t talked to him in a while."

She patted her blazer pockets then sighed softly; Vivian understood her attitude as relief, and a craving, even a _need_ to light a cigarette.

"You should ask," Margaret pointed out with a smile a tad clenched in the orbicularis muscles. "You like him, right?"

Vivian approved; she admired his thoroughness, his love for details… A lot could be learned while working under his care and Vivian found him both spirited and friendly.

Margaret didn’t quite share the feeling, however; in her own words, he was _giving her the heebie-jeebies_.

"Anyway, I’m off," Margaret stated with an even greater impatience in her voice. "I gotta light one before the crazy afternoon waiting for me!"

She gathered her cutlery on her tray, adding:

"Not giving up on the idea to come across Damon _fucking_ Dyers, though! At least in video recs. Wish me luck!"

Vivian nodded and Margaret put her tray away on the sideboard before hurrying to the exit.

Her colleagues had changed topics next to her, and now they were talking about cars, motorcycles and mechanics. As she didn’t know much about that topic, not as much as in computers, she listened only a little without taking part. Then, Vivian finished wolfing down her potato salad and her glass of water; she would soon return to her shift and examine a series of hosts, the characteristics of which she overviewed on her tablet from her timetable’s folders. It was simply routine checks, and Vivian liked that kind of sessions; it was like meeting with a friend, just to catch up with them. But for now, she would take a few minutes to get some air and natural light on top of the hub before diving back into the high tech depths of the Mesa.

*

At seven in the evening, closer to eight, Vivian was glad to be back to her on-site apartments. Once again, she had grabbed a snack at the restaurant but the room was much more crowded than it was at lunch and came close to a headache before reaching "home". She could have dined here, cooked something on her induction hob but she was so tired — or lazy — that, tonight again, she still choose to eat at the restaurant over having to do the dishes! Now, she was getting out of the shower in her bathrobe and throw herself on her bed.

Living like this, it was like being a teenager all over again, back at her parents’, or at the dorm… but once she closed her apartment’s door, Vivian was totally free to do whatever she wanted. As long as it didn’t involve wrecking the place! But now, even if she wanted to, Vivian wouldn’t have had the strength to break any chair, nor even to make a mess of the bed… About that, she was actually planning on laying there, and falling asleep in her bathrobe while watching a movie or reading any book she had available on her personal tablet. A tablet that was nothing close to the one she was using every day in the Behavior department labs, but a tablet anyway.

She swiped the covers without any real interest; in all honesty, she was feeling too tired to read. Even something she had already read. And she cringed a little when the minimalistic cover with her automatically signed name appeared. Yeah, even too tired to read her own words!

Besides, it wasn’t great literature at all — _a fanfiction_. Two, to be precise. Both about the hosts and their narratives as she could have written about a movie, book, or video game’s characters. Vivian grumbled, letting her tablet fall flat on her stomach, and she stared at the white ceiling before closing her eyes while nibbling her lips. She had written this almost six months after she started working here, taken over by all the motivation, excitement and creativity around her! She refocused on herself since but, in the meantime, she wrote these. And even though Vivian considered herself to have a fertile imagination, she still commended herself about how better for everyone it was she hadn’t applied for a job in Narrative… Rising her tablet up again and tapping on the lit screen, she entered the file and skimmed through it, trying to ignore the grammar mistakes she stopped committing since; and mistakes aside, her stories had nothing exceptional, totally influenced as they were by her mood and the not-so-new-but-still-trendy storyline — Escaton’s and his bandits, essentially…

Over a very short time, when Vivian was still more or less trying to fit into the life of the facility and social circles of her co-workers whose names had yet to be caught, she had heard so many comments, appreciations and reviews for this narrative that she looked into it first. After all, the park afforded Lee Sizemore, renowned author who made a big name for himself with a "hot and grimy" historical saga, a few years back before running out of puff under his editor’s pressure. And a juicy offer by a video game studio to adapt it. She understood; everybody, whether staff or guests, was more or less hyped by the brute force brought by Hector Escaton — virile and dark male figure — to the relative tranquility of the park’s starting point.

And Vivian had been no exception.

If her first story was only about made-up characters to explore the pleasing and well rounded context of Sweetwater, her second, on the other hand, was more audacious, altering shamelessly the story from what its authors had surely intended; victorious over the town after killing the sheriff and all opposition, Escaton and his gang enjoyed their plunder at the Mariposa where Hector fell for one of the saloon girls. That being said, Vivian remained very proper — maybe totally prudish — in these sort of narrative fantasies of hers; nothing turned freaky or utterly violent… All she did was throwing a few sentences on her writing app for some evenings, when inspiration struck or simply because she urged herself to follow through with what she started. All on her personal tablet. She knew better than to write that on anything system-tethered. Imagining that a bored somebody could just hack into the system all the way up to her personal data… and end up on that giddy nonsense, made her wants to puke!

Not to mention that it might also be forbidden. Even though she never planned to, she knew she couldn’t share it with anyone, nor anywhere. Not as a park employee. If the guests were writing critiques and other reviews online about their stay, herself couldn’t talk about it from the inside. Confidentiality and shit… Her texts would remain secret, and her silly fantasies with them. In any case, it wasn’t as if she intended to try anything for herself, and even less with Hector Escaton, all the more since he wasn’t even part of the batch her team had in charge. And also, rumor has it that fantasies aren’t always good when act upon!

With a lazy tap, Vivian quitted the reading app and dropped the tablet on her sheets before burying her face in her soft pillow. She let out a deep sigh in it, relaxed, and in fact, she fell asleep almost right away.


	2. Chapter 2

There were some days, like this one, during which Vivian and her team were called back in the night; a group of guests went all trigger happy and their mess had to be cleaned up somewhere between the Abernathy Ranch and Las Mudas. And since the narratives and hosts had to be back in rotation _asap_ , the techs’ nighttime was reduced without thinking twice. Maybe it didn’t look like it, but this job was really taxing sometimes.

That being said, shortly after 6AM, Vivian went back to her room for a few extra and well deserved minutes of sleep before resuming her diagnostics routine. An hour and a big mug of coffee with cereals later, Vivian was back in the elevator which took her down to the Behavior department level. In the soft lighted glass room, a host was sitting on a wheeled stool. The light brightened when Vivian entered.

"Sorry to have kept you waiting," she said on a hushed voice as if she wanted no-one but the offline host to hear her while letting the glass panel shut down slowly behind her. "I had a rough night. Looks like you did too…"

Ironically, he hadn’t been part of this night’s massacre. No, all those involved were already back in rotation for quite some time. Her first subject of the day, however, had only been victim of his own storyline, needing only a quick check-up and Vivian’s all clear before being back on his loop. She sat on the stool in front of the host, doing her best to ignore his nudity, and unfolded her tablet on her knees; she had to navigate through several indexes before connecting to his signal for a couple update history checkups.

"Bring yourself back online, please," she ordered, without raising her voice.

The command only seemed to take him out of his thoughts.

"Can you hear me?"

"I hear you alright."

"Off character, for now, please."

Vivian loved to talk to them in character… but, for her diagnostics, she had to ask them to reduce their emotional affect — which was more a guarantee of efficiency than an actual need, though.

"There’s been modifications in your attributes last month," she stated as she was discovering the changes. "Several characteristics got… Who the fuck did that?!"

Vivian had an answer to that already, as she was going through the log; someone from Narrative — that she would brand as asshole — had been pretty heavy handed on self-preservation and aggression, and on top of that they also nerfed curiosity, patience and courage!

There was pitiful justifications from the tech about an adjustment request from their sector after some of the host's alleged wanderings, blamed on his curiosity. But all this was more about making him keener to answer provocation while still being enough of a challenge for his opponents — hosts and guests alike. Vivian didn’t like what kind of freedom Narrative techs were taking with the hosts’ attributes, carefully calibrated by her co-workers and others before them; it wasn’t as simple as changing percentages on the fly in any way they saw fit!  
It was a delicate and very important step for any host's cognition, for them to even function at all, as much as for the continuity of their fucking narratives! Vivian took a deep breath and the time to check the quality of the host’s interactions since the modifications but the results only ended up fuelling her rage. So, she commanded:

"Archive this configuration and open the previous one. Confirmed?"

"Yes."

Vivian smiled, satisfied. On her tablet, the attribute matrix seemed now way more familiar than the last.

"We’ll leave 1.5% more in self-preservation… since they thought it best to give you a few more to endure their bullshit," she grumbled. "And then… 0.5 in aggression for them not to come back to lay it on thick! 6.5 will be more than enough. No need to go all the way up to 10!"

Vivian confirmed her modifications before looking back at the host.

"What d'you think?" she asked, without really expecting any answer from him. "No imbalance or discomfort?"

Modifications could sometimes cause hiccups in the hosts’ cognitions, close to an uneasy feeling. There were other ways to know but Vivian preferred to talk rather than relying only on the screen readings.

"No, I’m fine."

And from what Vivian could read now, he wasn’t lying. Although, browsing his history, she noticed a worrying peak of stress at the time of his "death". It would seem like a normal thing from anyone's standpoint but from which of a host and their technician's, however…

"Your last interaction recorded a peculiar rise in your stress level. What caused this?"

"A… thought."

His mumblings were recognised as improvisations by the tablet. Despite her surprise, Vivian said nothing of it.

"What thought?" she encouraged him instead.

"My family. I’m supposed to be responsible for… my wife, and my daughter."

Vivian noticed the normal occurrences of his cognition in the scrolling of his code.

"But… I can’t help it, I’m out of place, there."

He was getting out of beaten path a little with this comment.

"How are your relations with them?"

"Acceptable."

He kept a few seconds of silence before adding:

"My daughter, I think something’s wrong with her."

"Between you and her?" she asked, for clarity’s sake.

"No…"

"Analysis: what prompted this observation?"

He looked hesitant. On the tablet, still no conflict.

"Her interactions are limited," he then said. 

Vivian hesitated too; should she report this observation? Perhaps it was relevant for a potential issue somewhere else…

"It must be my fault."

The tablet, however, reported a new improvisation in that answer.

"Your fault?! Why?"

"I… I should enjoy being home."

According to the datas scrolling up, that was a scripted answer from his guilt library but despite that, what took Vivian aback was the tears running down his cheeks. On the screen — _distress, confusion_. That wasn't the affect class linked to it. But she didn’t suppress his emotional response… Instead, she glanced carefully through the glass panels around them; her closest colleagues were two cubicles away, doing the same thing as her. Well, maybe not exactly; once positive that no-one would catch her, Vivian leaned forward a little to put her hand on her subject’s cheek, wiping the tears off with a gentle brush of her thumb.  
She could have calmed him down with a simple word, or even with a tap on the right button on her tablet but… what would be the point? Vivian didn’t want to, not with him. And to be honest, as much as she was sincerely touched by the faithfulness of his emotion, it was also convenient for her that he would bring such a topic up.

" _Children have a short memory but a quick mind…_ "

Victor Hugo said that first. And Vivian was quoting him today with something else than Philosophy in mind; she had just use a voice command — _her voice command_. A simple little script she sneaked into the host’ complex code architecture. More or less mixed with the rest of it, encrypted and virtually unnoticeable without knowing what to look for, it gave the recipient host the ability to keep in their memory, in a hidden and compressed partition, all the events happening between the activation and deactivation of said command. Conversations, feelings, impressions… Everything was there. And everything would remain, even after each reset.  
The host couldn’t access it at will without hearing the command, and for what Vivian had noticed so far, it didn’t interfere with his narrative, alter his attitude, cause any glitch nor any pain. According to her analysis, it was only perceived as a distant memory, one of those leaving an undescribable feeling or a sense of déjà-vu…  
Despite the severity of her infraction, Vivian was quite proud of her small "innovation". And she had chosen this one, host ID# MG73368928764, to receive her creation among all the percentage of the park’s population her team had in charge. She had chosen him because of his responsiveness in analysis, because he hadn't been in any big narrative for at least ten years, because she had already noticed a few oddities in his code, because there was something soft in his eyes, a little extra something…

And quite frankly? Because he was the one who inspired her to create this command, based on an idea that has been on her mind. Because she wrote it for him.

Ever since she arrived in the Behavior department, Vivian had done quite a lot of analysis, calibrations, and had many occasions to talk with plenty of hosts, in character mode or not. And the guys from the Narrative department had done such a good job in writing all these characters, their lexical bases, just like her colleagues from Behavior, in encoding and calibrating all that work into each host put in their care! Or at least, that’s how Vivian was seeing things back then.  
But this particular host caught her eye more than any other; she had quickly noticed how much he was calling upon his improvisation engine compared to others and the feeling of having an actual conversation with a well aware person was sometimes so baffling that, against all common sense, Vivian furthered it. Not to mention the frustration she felt that he could never really recall anything else than what his logs allowed him to, after each diagnostic. But since the installation of her script, the inference frequency in his dialog chains increased. And he was calling upon it with even more fluency.

To the point that their sessions became a real pleasure for Vivian!

It was selfish, she realised that… but she wanted him to keep something from it so badly, something from her, just like she could think back on their conversations with emotion. Those past ones were lost for him but, now, he could remember all those that followed the installation of her script. Vivian smiled when he focused on her.

"Hello, Lawrence."

He looked hesitant for a second, like a man still not fully awake yet. No alert or conflict from his inference engine on her tablet.

"Hey…"

At his answer, Vivian smiled to him again, and so did Lawrence, even if he kept something a bit shy, uncertain, numbed. In that intermediate state, it wasn’t like coming back to the warmth, the liveliness and the responsiveness of the character mode but it wouldn’t be as cold as the analysis mode could be. Even though he was reverting to his usual demeanor. Vivian didn’t program that; this semblance of a balance had set itself around the integration of the script in the depths of the core-code. But she liked the result.

"How are you, today?"

His drawl was back when he answered:

"Well enough, I’d say. Like after a real good sleep…"

Vivian grinned, amused.

"Perfect."

"And you, how are you?"

The spontaneity of Lawrence’s question took her by surprise.

"Well… um, I’m glad I can talk with you a bit," she finally answered. "Do you remember our last encounter?"

"21 days and 11 hours ago."

This time, the answer was delivered almost without accent; the question had triggered an analysis type of answer.

"And do you remember what our talks were about?"

He would have to query in his archived and encrypted memories to be able to answer this question. If he had it "right", then it would mean that everything was in order.

"Yeah, I told you about my folks, my… my drives. And that project you worked on for some time. It was a secret."

"It still is, Lawrence," she reminded him softly.

"I can keep a secret."

That wasn’t something he needed to convince her of! And she was less wary about him than about any other technician snooping in his code like the guys from Narrative did between two of her maintenance sessions. She gritted her teeth, frustrated and annoyed, by the limits of her authority on the modifications decided in high places, and on whom… It was her fault, really; she shouldn’t have grew attached to a host like she did to Lawrence, but now things were the way they were, and it wasn’t possible for her to purge her memories and rewrite her affections as easily as a few lines of code. She was only human, after all!  
Vivian brushed her boiling emotions off with a brief sigh before fully focusing back on Lawrence, asking him:

"Did this script cause you any issue since our last encounter?"

He still looked slightly numbed as he answered:

"I… I don’t understand…"

"No interference with your core-code?" she rephrased.

"No. None."

Not to brag, but she suspected that much. The only persisting worries she had were the saturation of his memory, provided that could actually be possible. Normally, the hosts’ memory was wiped between each rotation; then, there was no telling what could really happen if a unit gathered too much data. Vivian might as well be ending up editing her script to overwrite the oldest logs… She hesitated, biting her lower lip then tried a new question:

"No saturation?"

"No."

She gazed at him for a long minute before looking down on her tablet and stating, more to herself than to him:

"Maybe… maybe you’d rather be rid of all those… memories."

She held back the word "useless".

"No, not at all!"

Vivian frowned but a shy smile appeared on her lips.

"Why?"

"'Cause memories are priceless," he answered. "The good ones just like the bad… That’s what makes one remember where they’re from, and who their folks are. It’s what shape one’s life…"

And she followed the improvisation notifications on his dialog chain, but the irony in all this also made her feel somewhat bitter.

"Do… do you know where you are, now?" she asked.

"Ain’t so sure," he answered, holding her gaze, frowning. "Feels… like a dream I already had…"

That wasn’t far from the truth, indeed.

"And it’s gonna be time to wake up, now."

"Alright…"

Unfortunately, Vivian didn’t have all the time she’d love to give him. She tapped on her tablet, biting her lower lip; all of his levels were green, nothing to report — he had her _all clear_.

"Are we gonna see each other again soon?"

The question made her raise her head, almost stunned; Vivian wasn’t on the interface where she could follow his dialog chain anymore but didn’t need it to recognise improvisation.

"You… you’d want that? I mean…"

She cleared her throat, mouthing a silent word, before rephrasing:

"Would you like that?"

"Sure!"

That answer pleased Vivian, anyway; she felt herself blush and stumbled upon her words until something coherent came to her mind.

"Well then, I… I’ll do my best. I promise."

Lawrence nodded, apparently satisfied, and Vivian held his gaze while taking a short breath.

"They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night."

This time, it was Edgar Allan Poe’s prose Vivian had chosen to end her script, and stop the recording of his memories. None of what would happen after hearing those words would remain in Lawrence’s memory, unless she or another technician botched the wipe before sending him back in his narrative loop. Vivian stayed with him until the cleanup was complete then disconnected the signal after putting him offline; she was already late for her next session but didn’t hurry all that much to tuck her tablet and get up. It was pissing her off to let him there, like that…  
She let out a brief sigh then, after a look at her watch, she finally but reluctantly left the room.

*

The day didn’t only seem too long to Vivian; around 10PM, it had really started to drag on and it was about time to leave her be. Especially if some other guests were planning to unload their barrels during what little time she had left to sleep!  
At least, Damon Dyers kept things cool on his side. Margaret had managed to get footages of his arrival in Sweetwater and his first steps in one of the easiest narratives, according to her, but she didn’t seem disappointed when offering them to take a look at those videos she had already viewed a good dozen times since on her tablet. She had been very chatty about his clothing, narratives, adventure companions, and even taking friendly bets on what he would do next…

"Everybody’s gonna be hyped like crazy outside when his review’s gonna hit the park website!" laughed Thawal, finishing what would be his last coffee cup for today.

Charles snorted.

"As if Delos needed more of that…"

Margaret nodded in approval, all the more when Luke added:

"No joke, that’s better than any of those stupid casting headshots! It’s the best career boost he could hope for, right now!"

"Not to burst it for you but, nobody is gonna see this outside," commented Vivian. "It was hard enough for Marge to get them in-house, so I can’t even imagine getting them out!"

To what Luke shrugged.

"Do you really believe that?! There’s nothing a few bucks under the table can’t buy, and footages instead of a crappy picture in Sweetwater is no big deal, I’m sure! It’s not like it’s IP or some shit…"

Margaret scoffed.

"I didn’t pay, not even fucked anybody to get them, she muttered, openly cynical, as if her thoughts were escaping between her gritted teeth. I’m trash but I didn’t stooped that low yet."

With Charles laughing like a braying donkey in the background, Luke corrected:

"That’s not what I meant, Marge! But yeah, thanks to prove my point all the same…Even Marge managed to put her hands on it, without shaking down her pockets or her ass, so imagine what you can get if you’re ready to drop some cash!"

Luke’s rhetoric seemed to get the point across as it was followed by a moment of silence around the table, and the tablet in its center, on which the patched-up hour of video feeds was still going.

"Anyhow, it makes nice memories to bring back home…"

Vivian pulled her attention away from the screen to stare at the focused — mesmerised — face of Thawal. He was right, it would make nice memories…  
She bit her lower lip and turned back towards the tablet; suddenly, Dyers wasn’t the center of attention anymore, not even a guest who came to show off in the park — there was nothing else than people, hosts or guests it didn’t matter, listening to a more charismatic man than the others carrying a tune next to a player piano for the pleasure of his audience. And far from being corny or just lame, the scene even had something charming.

"And you said he’s going to Pariah, after that?"

Charles’ voice cut Vivian’s thoughts short.

"Yeah," answered Margaret. "He got there yesterday, I think…"

Margaret searched her video directory and selected one that spreaded across the entire screen; they could see Dyers and his two friends, lead by Teddy, on the trail of the narrative they had picked — a bounty hunt, if Vivian understood everything.

"It’s so fucking epic, Marge!" bursted Thawal, leaning over the tablet as if he wanted to dive in it. "Looks like another remake of the _Magnificent Seven_ …"

"Except they’re only four," Charles snarked.

Thawal and Margaret glared at him, which made him laugh even more.

"I know, right?" Marge then admitted. 

She turned towards Vivian, beaming with happiness. She smiled back but her mind was already elsewhere; somewhere around Las Mudas, she wasn’t quite sure yet… On the screen, Dyers was continuing his adventure, like larping or a life size fanfiction. Now that Vivian was thinking about it, it had been a while since her last vacation… She could maybe use her special employee discount, and do so to hold her promise?


	3. Chapter 3

In front of the mirror, Vivian was enjoying a pretty flattering image of herself in this Old West apparel; it was brand new, from boots to hat, all worn looking with some sort of a distress effect for which Vivian had actually paid good money. The staff didn’t always get to choose among the bespoke best of the best considering the renting was free… But if one aimed for ever so slightly better, it wasn’t anymore!

For now, Vivian regretted nothing, except maybe that she wouldn’t get to keep it all at the end of her stay. She even afforded a gun!

But considering where she intended to go, it wouldn't be just a pointless luxury. And neither would be looking a bit more weathered than as if straight out of the tailor's shop…

Filled with pride, Vivian flushed at the thought she hoped not to be the only one to think her pretty, and to make an impression on the other guests. For no reason other than to boost her self-esteem. She pulled her hair up, trying to shape them into some fancy beachy waves, same as for a western starlet, Sharon Stone in that antic 95' movie, _"The Quick and the Dead"_ … but not as sexy. Also, less blond.

And clearly, everything else was so frickin stylish as well! Thanks so much, Design.

All the available outfits for the clients were carefully recreated with historical sewing patterns but with all the benefits of current materials. And the gray linen shirt, the vest and the pants Vivian was wearing were cut better and no doubt from much more comfortable fabric than her everyday clothes that it was borderline upsetting! Still, she smiled to her reflection while tying a large beige and red kerchief around her neck. This time, she chose what she would wear. No way she’d suffer dresses or puffed sleeves and flowered hats ever again!

Her first visit in the park, not too long after she started in Behavior, was on the occasion of a "team building" week-end of some sort but after a few hours — a day, maybe? — everyone had scattered around in the limits set to them during their onboard train briefing… So much for team spirit!

That being said, Vivian was fine with that; she was of the quiet kind, more observing than extroverted, and to go forth befriending new people, stuff like that, wasn’t really her strength. Even if everything had been set up to spur her on that way. Like, a _Team Building_ week-end…

But then, it was also because she was the way she was — alone and no strings attached — that Vivian had grasped this golden opportunity to work as a coder for Delos in their now famous park. She only had a few friends all around the world, mostly online, and didn’t keep much contacts up with her family, especially her sister with whom she shared an old resentment. It was this lack of ties that could let people believe her more focused and available than her otherwise committed colleagues.

These thoughts discarded, Vivian put her stetson on, stuffed her gloves in her gunbelt and picked her saddlebags up before leaving the dressing room to walk the hallways down to the elevator. It took her in one go all the way to the level right below the surface, from which the maglev shuttles' terminal was distributing the entirety of the park; she almost jumped out of the cabin and kept a brisk pace in the last long corridors to reach a plainer hall than the client’s terminal.

Shifting her saddlebags’s weight on her shoulder, Vivian moved across the space, ignoring the curious eyes to get to one of the shuttle’s platform. She was already getting in character, and she enjoyed it. _Maybe a bit too much_ , she thought as she tipped her hat to three techs in suits and apron. She was discovering herself an unsuspected confidence that she liked very much; she giggled with pleasure as she stepped in the shuttle she was about to share with a group of techs from various departments and two guys from QA’s security, including one who gave an enormous yawn.

The shuttle carried them at high speed and stopped first at Vivian's meeting point, where she was the only one to step off.

With a peek at her pocket watch, Vivian hoped she wasn’t late, provided that she didn’t get stood up. But passing one of the many concrete pillars in the huge low lit tunnel, her worries faded; Graham didn’t let her down. He was there, waiting for her next to a freight lift, holding a beautiful chestnut horse by the bridle. At least, she wouldn’t have to walk, or rely on the train and start all the way back from Sweetwater.

"Thanks, Graham! Sorry for the trouble…"

"No problem," he answered. "You’re aiming to make a mess someplace, aren’t you?"

Vivian scoffed and buckled her saddlebags to her steed’s gear.

"No, not even! I’m just gonna visit remote corners, far from the tourists’ standard circuit."

"Mmh, good luck…" Graham replied lazily, handing her the reins. "Cry for help and shake your arms to the camera if you need us to come get you!"

She punched him lightly in the arm and he smiled, unfolding a tablet on which he confirmed Vivian and her horse’s exit in the logs.

"You’re good to go."

"Thanks, Graham."

"Yeah, yeah…"

He waved her away towards the glass lift; as she was getting ready inside, her horse still held by the reins, Graham ordered it to go up — the doors closed, and the cabin shook in its tubular frame.

 _"Yeehaw, babey!"_ he shouted, playfully.

Vivian shrugged before patting her horse’s shoulder as to calm it. It didn’t need any of that, it was actually more about alleviating her own stress by petting it. The lift slowly raised Vivian and her horse to the surface where the bright daylight was jarring. She lowered her head to look around under the brim of her hat; a great plain spread out in front of her eyes, surrounded by crisp red hills covered in tall grass and a few crooked trees like old charred bones.

The lift shook again before coming to a stop, startling the horse that jolted at the end of its reins. Vivian patted its neck and when the doors opened she steered it out; a gust of wind full of a warm earthy smell rushed a cloud of dust against the armored glass.

Gathering the reins on her horse’s neck , Vivian hoisted herself in the saddle; it wasn’t something new by any means, but the feeling of it was strange anyway — she hadn’t been on a horse for a very long while. But as they said, it was like riding a bike…

For now, she was happy just by staying in the saddle, unmoving, and took the time to put her gloves on to observe the landscape. According to the map she did her best to memorize, Las Mudas was north-west from this outpost, within a few miles. On horseback, it wouldn’t take long. And she would find the road eventually, even before reaching the town.

Vivian clicked her tongue to encourage her mount to walk, and it obeyed; she was in no real hurry but if she hoped to be in the right place at the right time to smoothly intercept the narrative of her choice, she ought to end up galloping at some point, fast!

She picked in her pocket, pulling out her watch; it was past two in the afternoon and, provided she didn’t wind up lost, she’d be there around four. Comfortably set in her saddle and stirrups, Vivan pushed the pace of her horse with another click of her tongue while the freight lift was quaking back down.

*

Gallop wasn’t uncomfortable, but galloping that long could quickly become so and, once she reached the dirt road meandering in the sparse vegetation all the way to Las Mudas, Vivian let her horse go back to a trot. And that gait was straight down uncomfortable but she preferred riding all the way there rather than popping up through a building access right in the middle of the town, fresh as a daisy, hands in her pockets, saddlebags on her shoulder… and without any pony.

_Not fishy at all…_

The truth was she didn’t had much of a choice about the available access points, really! She did what she could with what was among the closest. But it was fine by her. It would make the experience more authentic and gave her the time to check what she could have overlooked before leaving, or even think things through instead of just dive head first into trouble.

That being said, she hoped there wouldn’t be any; she wasn’t there to go on an adventure, but to hold a promise… while taking notes on her script in field conditions.

The thought that she’d remove it if it caused any issue was kinda gut wrenching but she thought it best to blame it on hunger. Vivian hadn’t had lunch yet so nervous she was, and now, she was starving. But, at last, the shape of the town’s walls cut out on the hills gray with garrigue. Maybe she’d eat something once settled there. She had heard that the food was kinda good around these parts… Vivian let the reins loose; only a few yards and they entered, walking, on the town’s dusty square. Even if her poor horse had done most of the work, it wasn’t the only one to be tired by this scamper; they both had a sore back and stiff legs. Getting her feet back on the ground would be an interesting experience in a few moments… She stretched her shoulders as she was slowing down her horse, until it stopped, nose in front of the fountain. Apparently, she was better at parallel parking with a horse than with her car!

That thought made Vivian snicker as she slowly slid down her steed. As she expected, dismounting was tough; the pain surge from the sole of her feet all the way to her thighs, getting her knees to shake. She stood still for a second, taking the time to pat her horse who had already dived its big grey nose into the water of the fountain.

"Good idea, _buddy_ ,” she whispered, out of breath.

She took her canteen from her saddle horn to take a long sip from it. The water wasn’t that fresh anymore but it still did the job; Vivian felt like all the dust of the road was in her throat right now! Her steps heavy, betraying her lack of habit to ride for so long, she sat with less grace than hoped on the edge of the stone basin, beside her still drinking horse. Vivian took a hot minute to breathe and watch the scenery of Las Mudas; she could make out the colors of the housefronts under the dusty patina, feel the cool air and hear the quiet bustle of its inhabitants. Children were running after a few panicking chickens with a dog barking in excitement and wagging its tail like a whip.

Vivian removed her gloves and untied her neckerchief to wipe her face. When her horse raised its head, its mouth dripping with water on her shoulder, she chuckled and avoided its forehead coming a bit too fast in hers. Then, she plunged her hands in the water to wet her face and neck. That felt really good.

Vivian tied her neckerchief back while a plump red hen came pecking pebbles at her feet, fleeing when her horse stepped on the side; she snorted as her eyes followed the hen’s erratic dashes. Vivian enjoyed the calm ambient, the subtlety in details, but at the same time, she was recognising the work of _this team, that department_ … Vivian grunted as she turned away from the daily life scene and leapt to her feet, startling her horse. She shouldn’t let her insider knowledge get in the way of what she came to do here, she shouldn’t "trash her own immersion" as much as she should be careful of what she was going to say, and to whom.

After this little clarification with herself, she brought her attention back to the people around her; the border between hosts and guests was finally getting a bit blurry — that guy who was scraping horse shit from his soles on the edge of the cantina’s boardwalk was just that, _a man_ … And these kids, bickering around who would be the hunter in their next game of hide and seek, were all just kids. It was more pleasing to imagine oneself like a time traveler — she had to adapt to what was around her, _not the other way around._

Her horse cut her thoughts short with a soft headbutt to her back, like a nudge to immerse herself back in and she took it to the hitching post, a few steps away; Vivian rolled the reins around the rod, searched in her saddlebag for a few coins she pocketed in her vest and walked without hurry to the cantina’s rickety tables. She pushed her holster back a little on her hip and sat on a chair. Even though she had spent the last few hours with her butt sticked to a saddle, she felt like it was the first time she was really sitting since the morning! Her shoulders stooped in relief and she stretched her legs with a grunt, propping one heel on the seat in front of her. 

"Shit…" she sighed between her teeth.

She noticed the three patrons at the closest table staring at her. When their eyes met, under the brim of her hat, they turned away, focusing back on their tumblers full of whisky and their domino game.

"What are you having, _newcomer_?"

Vivian almost jumped; the barkeep was standing right beside her, a dirty rag in his hands. His face was as weathered as the walls and he looked simply tired to be himself.

"Actually, I’m looking for someone," she explained.

The barkeep’s whole face wrinkled as he frowned, wincing a smile that was as embarrassed as it was embarrassing.

"What kind of someone?" he asked, cautious.

Vivian understood her mistake. It might not be the best way to break the ice to accidentally imply that she was a bounty hunter or something, as she suddenly realised. She tried to fall back:

"Someone with good knowledge of these parts to take me to Pariah without going in circles."

The barkeep couldn’t have looked more relieved had he cracked a fart, Vivian thought, her eyebrows raised in amusement. 

"Oh," he said before flicking glances around. "You’re sure gonna find a great deal of good folks like that around!"

He gestured towards one of the domino players.

"Carlos, here, can take you. Hey, Carlos…"

That one turned a suspicious look towards Vivian’s table, but stood up anyway to step forward; he was the dirtiest of the three and under the brim of his own hat, his face had something alarming — maybe because of his broken nose and missing teeth. With a calm motion of her hand, she stopped him to make another step. Carlos froze, looking frankly disappointed and Vivian glared at the barkeep.

" Someone _trustworthy._ "

Carlos grumbled and spat some black tobacco goo on the ground, through the spaces between his teeth before sitting back among his cackling friends. Vivian looked back to the barkeep who winced again awkwardly.

"D’you have that around here?" she quipped.

Far be it from her to be disparaging; she was only being playing the game… She figured out that the barkeep wasn’t a model of bravery, or honesty, and he needed to be pushed a little for her to get what she wanted. He shrugged, twisting his rag.

"Yeah, yeah," he assured her, nodding almost exaggeratedly. "Sure! There’s…"

He cleared his throat and one of his shaking hands flew from the rag to point her towards the stables — or at least what looked like it — opposing the cantina on the other side of the street.

"Thanks," she answered, almost ironically.

But he heard nothing of it, bobbing his head without adding a word before leaving for a table where a guy was calling for him loudly. Vivian stood up without haste, sparing her sore muscles useless efforts, before heading to the wooden awning. The street wasn’t very large between the cantina’s boardwalk and the stables and yet, she had time to come across enough people to wreck her immersion; two women were walking down the southern aisle, commenting almost out loud on the realism of the place. 

_"Feels like the real thing!"_ , a guy uttered as he caught up on them after having thanked a woman who had given him direction on the doorstep on her house.

_The real what, exactly?!_

It’s wasn’t like they were in the middle of Sweetwater, which was more or less the park’s entry point, with all its market-tested banalities! No, this was one of these remote areas where things started to get a bit more "hairy" as Margaret said… "Epic", according to Thawal.

Basically, what the fuck were those tourists doing here, in this area of the park, if they weren’t going to forget, not even for a second, the limits of this questionable reality they were clinging onto at each step to focus on all the possibilities of where they were right now?

Vivian let out a slow sigh. She shouldn’t get angry, or judge; maybe these people lacked self-confidence — she knew all too well what a pain it could be — and were afraid to lose control; control of themselves, or the situation.

Vivian rubbed her neck under her kerchief and slowed down as she arrived in front of the stables. From there, exited a tall black guy with broad shoulders under his long duster, and with one look, he seemed to evaluate her from head to toe as he went past her, leading his horse by the bridle. He nodded to Vivian, and she nodded back.

By the fountain where he hoisted himself in his saddle, several others came from the nearby street; she heard the guy giving orders to the troop gathering around him and they all went ahead, galloping towards the western gate, frightening the chickens away to the sides of the street, scattering their feathers as they flapped their flightless wings. A strange silence fell on the town after the riders disappeared. 

Despite her being kinda bothered about "tourists", Vivian would admit that long-returning guests like that man with the duster, had an uncanny ability to blend themselves in the narratives, to make them theirs to the point of changing the entire thing sometimes. At least, until the next reset.

Vivian brushed her hair off her forehead under the brim of her hat to try to gather her thoughts, and courage, before stepping in the stables; two men had their backs turned, at the right of a bay horse’s tail, facing to talk to another Vivian couldn’t see, except for his worn hat between their heads. At the moment, he seemed more concerned about his saddle’s straps than about what the two other men were telling him on a hurried but hushed tone. Vivian couldn’t hear everything from where she was; one of them didn’t want him to leave, not now, and the other was arguing that it was exactly what "the other brother" was waiting for, that he should at least let them come with him…

The horse shifted its weight, nudging the man leaning on its croup — he and the other moved aside, clearing the line of sight to the third, someone Vivian recognised with no effort. Even dressed.

She sucked her teeth and wrinkled her nose as to hold back a laugh. But all cheerfulness vanished when the two men turned to her, almost threatening. Certainly surprised by the sudden silence, Lawrence then looked up, letting go of the straps he had just finished buckling around a Winchester scabbard.

"The fuck d’you want?" spat the one of the two with a big mustache and a split leather vest.

Vivian didn’t answer right away, and that silence prompted the other to slowly put his hand to the handle of a knife in his belt. The unspoken threat made Vivian’s heart rush. Yet, she kept her chill — way more than she imagined herself able to. So, she explained:

"The barkeep sent me here when I told him I was looking for someone trustworthy to take me to Pariah."

The one with the mustache glanced at Lawrence, himself staring at Vivian with an expression she could have qualified as grumpy or disappointed.

"I can pay, if that’s what concerns you," she added to break the silence before it settled.

Lawrence suddenly unfroze and shook his head, before checking a second time on the straps securing his rifles’ scabbard to the saddle.

"No," he grumbled. "Sorry, lady… You’ve been fed some bullshit."

He patted his horse and tugged a bit on his saddle blanket to adjust it.

"Thing is… I can’t right now."

He was playing _"hard to get"_! Vivian would’ve almost laughed at that. Not that she found it ridiculous or anything, on the contrary; it was nice, and unexpected! Looking away towards a rider passing in the street near the awning, she nodded slowly, not repressing a smirk, and sliding her thumbs in her belt.

"Alright," she simply said. "Thanks anyway…"

Vivian waited for a second to pass in silence. None of them broke it until she added:

"Evenin’, gents…"

She tipped her hat; one of the men nodded as an answer and Vivian was already leaving the stables when she heard another swear a bunch, on a quiet tone. She was still repressing her smile when she reached the cantina to sit back at the same table, still available. This time again, she was more than happy to sit down.

Vivian threw a quick glance at the stables and snorted, amused. She easily guessed that he wasn’t engaged on any other narrative than his own for now but… she wouldn’t insist anyway. Maybe later? Or maybe she’d follow him and pretend to come across him somewhere along the way… Vivian had nothing outlined, really, and she didn’t want to outline anything. She, too, _would improvise_!

The barkeep finished to fill a glass at the nearest table and walked to Vivian’s to whom he asked:

"Something to drink, after all?"

He shook the brownish alcohol bottle he had in his hand.

"Cider, you have that?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure! I-I’ll get it now…"

And without waiting for any approval or comments, he left for the inside of the cantina. Vivian let out a long sigh; every intentions put aside, it was a nice moment to spend in the coolness and the calm of this small town between the hills. At the southern gate, the entrance of a cart pulled by a prancing donkey caught Vivian’s attention but she turned away from it as the barkeep was coming back already, holding a clay bottle and one small glass, same as for the other patrons, barely bigger than a shot.

"Did… did you find what you were looking for?" he asked, opening the bottle.

"You can say that…"

The barkeep didn’t comment and poured a glassful of dark cider, generous enough to spill all over the table — she guessed that it was a dry one but she hoped it would also be a good one. She nodded, thanking him silently, and the barkeep went back inside. A second had barely passed and a man stood up from his table to come and sit in front of Vivian who was trying her best to raise her glass without spilling more; she only acknowledged him with a curious eye while working on the careful rise of her _almost-a-shot_ of cider.

"Heard ye're lookin’ for someone to get ya to Pariah, over there?" he jabbered with a thick accent.

Vivian didn’t answer, watching him above the back of her own hand as she was swigging a good half of her drink; his skin was tanned under his salt-and-pepper beard, his eyelids heavy and his eyes yellowish.

"Ah can take ya there," he continued under Vivian’s scrutiny. "Less than three days!"

He nodded vigorously.

"Truth be told, ah did it on the way in awright," he completed, without taking note of Vivian’s stubborn silence. "Gimme first half now and the rest as soon as—"

He never finished his sentence, pulled out of his chair by the grip of another man who tossed him aside without a word; he almost fell over but didn’t complain, and on the now available seat settled Lawrence. The expression on his face was a subtle mix between annoyance and remorse and Vivian only raised an eyebrow while putting her glass down on the table.

"My apologies for my bad manners, before," he said, not looking her in the eye for too long. "My cousins and I… we didn’t agree on somethin’."

Vivian didn’t reply and leaned back in her chair… now that she could take her glass without spilling it everywhere.

"I take it you want to go to Pariah?"

It wasn’t really a question, and Vivian didn’t reply to it either, holding his stare. The barkeep was coming back to their table anyway, a bottle and a glass in his hands. However, he didn’t say anything as he poured the whisky in the glass he had put in front of Lawrence who asked again:

"Why is it you want to go there?"

This time, it was a real question. The barkeep had a knowing grin for Vivian before walking away; he was so proud of himself, that one!

"I… I’m supposed to meet someone," she answered, looking back at Lawrence. "Someone who… who owes me."

Vivian clenched her teeth, and her fingers on her glass; it was only half a lie, as she’d find an outpost somewhere around the town but still, _she lied_. And, herself, she wasn’t proud of that.

The truth was that she had planned her starting point, but not her arrival.

But the answer seemed to convince Lawrence — at least, enough for him to recline in his chair, an arm resting on the table. Without taking his eyes off Vivian, he was tapping with his fingers on the scratched, stained table, next to his glass he still hadn’t touched yet. Vivian enjoyed that detail in his bearing; she could guess that he was thinking. About what, she wasn’t sure, but she was eager to hear what he’d chose to answer.

"If I may," he started with caution. "I don’t think this is a good place for someone… someone like you…"

He waved towards her in a lazy move, still close to his glass. And Vivian wasn’t expecting such a comment. She even doubted that it was part of his standard library; so, her surprised was perfectly honest.

"I can take care of myself!" she bristled.

Again, Lawrence shook his hand and smiled a little, nodding.

"Don’t get me wrong," he tempered. "It’s just that… you might be _too polite_ for a lot like these ones."

Vivian’s puzzlement was unending. Frowning, she heard him adding:

"I only hope you know what to expect over there. But, then again… _ain’t my business_! I’m goin’ there today."

He picked his glass and took it to his lips.

"And I wouldn’t mind havin’ some company, after all."

Then, he emptied his whole drink in one go. Vivian nodded, tapping with her fingers on the base of here own glass; she displayed some sort of disinterest, like she was _totally not impressed_ while, in fact, her nervousness was starting to take over. It was so different than being in analysis, in the controlled environment of her lab, she realised that too — she was the one in his world, now…

And things wouldn’t be as easy as they looked like. Not for her, anyway. However, she managed to let no more than a few seconds pass before recovering her ability to speak:

"Perfect."

Finishing what cider remained in her glass, Vivian thought how much her own improvisations were about to be wicked awful. She put her glass back down, without a sound.

"The question is," she continued carefully. "How much do you want?"

This elicited a genuine but quiet laugh from Lawrence; he watched her for a second, still smiling. But as much as his sudden cheerful mood was catching, Vivian was wondering what was so funny in what she said.

"A whisky before we leave and somethin’ of the kind when we’re there sounds fair to me," he declared, with a look around the boardwalk of the cantina and the surroundings of the fountain behind Vivian. "It will at least take us two days to get there."

He nodded towards someone out of Vivian’s sight before adding:

"If you need supplies, now’s the right time to think about it."

Vivian agreed — aside from a can of water and a travel kit that, in all honesty, was more of a survival kit, she had nothing in her saddlebags.

"Thanks," she said, simply because she had no idea what else to say — _and because she was too polite._ "Mister… ?"

Lawrence lowered his head and shook his hand, lazily.

"No, no, please…" he replied, a frown on his face but without any real annoyance. "We’re in for quite a trip together, you can call me Lawrence."

Vivian nodded.

"I’m Ivy…"

It was her real nickname — one her few friends had given her and that she adopted fondly. In front of her, Lawrence leaned towards the table to hold out his hand, palm open as though he had a change of heart about payment. But Vivian got it; he was offering her to shake his hand. And a smiled appeared on his lips as she did.

"Nice meetin’ you, Ivy…"

His politeness effort didn’t slip past Vivian who, even though she appreciated it, couldn't ignore a twinging thought; should she come back in the park after this visit, he wouldn’t remember her… and this "first encounter" would become one among many that only she would remember. That, even with the help of her script.

Lawrence let go of her hand before standing up.

"I’ll be at the stables," he said. "Got some stuff to deal with before leavin’, too."

"Very well."

She observed him as he walk towards a young man, hopping up and down with anxiety and he started to talk really fast to Lawrence as he arrived. The boy was radiating so much stress and guilt that Vivian felt nervous just to look at him. She turned away to see the barkeep coming her way. Without even waiting for him to give her the prices of the drinks, Vivian dropped a few coins next to the empty glasses.

"Keep the change," she muttered as she stood up too.

"Oh, thanks!" he replied, visibly pleased, gathering the coins without waiting. "Safe travel and come back soon!"

She replied with a simple, tight smile before walking down the street to the western gate, towards what looked like a grocery store.


	4. Chapter 4

With what coins remained in her pocket, Vivian only bought a few dry biscuits and an apple. She then took a generous bite out of it before handing the rest to her horse which swallowed the whole thing in one go. She had to restrain herself to do the same; the problem was that she was really hungry… and this taste of a meal was actually a more cruel reminder of that fact than running on an empty stomach. _Too bad…_ She’d nibble on one or two of her biscuits when they’d slow down along the road at some point tonight.

Vivian untied her horse and it followed her, docile, still chewing on its apple core. They walked all the way to the stables where she met up with Lawrence and three other men — the two from earlier and the young stressed one. He seemed a bit better now, flanked by his elders and encouraged by Lawrence who patted his shoulder before steering his horse out of the awning.

His cousins followed him. The two oldest looked way more composed than the youngest. Still, he chuckled to some sort of joke the one with the mustache said but Vivian didn’t hear well. She got a bit closer but not too much.

"And watch your back!" grunted the one with the knife at his belt.

Lawrence muttered a simple word while tying his greyish neckerchief before getting on his saddle and then, Vivian did the same.

"Ready?" he asked as he gathered his reins.

"When you are."

Then, he nodded and got his horse moving to the corner of the street, towards the southern gate, Vivian after him; the three cousins trailed behind, still more chill than they were an hour ago. A bit further ahead, a little girl stepped to the side of the road, her hand escaping her mother’s to wave at Lawrence as he passed by. He said a few words to them, without really slowing his horse down. Once he got beyond them, the girl turned to Vivian a few steps behind, staring at her with such intensity that she felt shivers running down her back. But, apart from her stern face that gave her a funny look, this kid didn’t seem to have any issue.

Maybe someone had noticed something too and the girl had been assessed in the meantime. If so, Vivian hadn’t reported it anyway.

They got through the southern gate and their horses’ steps sounded lighter on the dirt road than it was between the town’s walls. In front of Vivian, Lawrence shot a look at her before slowing his horse a little for her to catch up.

"We’re gonna reach the heights before dark," he explained, waving towards the hills raising forth. "It’ll be safer to stop there for the night."

Vivian gazed at the blue and ocher vast sky; the sun wouldn’t set before around eight, they would have time to cover a few miles before the night, and before the horses need some rest.

"Is there a lot of… of predators around here?" she asked, worried. "Or stuff we should be careful of?"

She wasn’t much of a trekker but she kinda knew how things could go in such an environment. Lawrence answered with an embarrassed growl.

"A few, yeah. But it ain’t as much the animals than the bandits I’m worried about…"

He glanced at her intently, as if he was gauging her response but, faced with her apparent peace he continued:

"From the hilltops, we’ll be able to keep an eye on the road even if it will hold us up a mite."

"I’m fine with that."

Lawrence mouthed a silent word but seemed to settle for simply peering at her for a second under the brim of his hat. And he didn’t add anything.

*

Their journey continued that way — without a word — first to a walking pace, and then to a canter; nature had changed slowly around them, along with the hour and the light, as the road they were following became harder to perceive.

And then, it had fully faded away under the waves of blond grass, spreading from the trees feet up to the hills, and where larges gray stumps seemed to float here and there, along the rock ledges between which Vivian was trailing Lawrence. He was glancing at her from time to time, probably to make sure she was holding on behind, but remained silent, even when they finally slowed down and went stride for stride.

Despite that, Vivian appreciated the relentless choir of insects in the wind; it complimented the peace of this stretch nested between the darkened hills in the warm autumn late afternoon’s grazing light. She didn’t often get the chance to enjoy the great outdoors, or a bit of quiet except in her lab or her apartment, and now that she could see them from up close, she had to admit that the park’s landscapes had something bewitching.

She had already been able to watch them a little from the train during her first trip out there, but… on horseback like today, being able to just hold out her hand to touch the trees or look up to follow the flight of a buzzard, it just couldn’t stand comparison. And also, she was in good company… even if said company wasn’t saying a damn thing!

Vivian turned to Lawrence. She knew he was still peering at her and this silent scrutiny was making her uncomfortable; was he waiting for her to ask question about their trip, the area, or even that she _imposed_ any sort of small talk topic? She knew him to be way more talkative, though!

For now, it was a bit like carpooling. _Awkwardly._

Vivian chuckled as she imagined herself turning the radio on somewhere on her horse… Aware that her reaction wouldn’t go unnoticed, she glanced again at Lawrence; he was side-eying her again but still didn’t utter a sound.

Vivian’s horse snorted loudly, as to express her actual feeling, its head held low and hooves scratching on the pebbles of the way they were picking across the dry shrub and the terrain curves. Vivian patted its shoulder, burning and covered in dust.

"Don’t worry, _Buddy_ …" she whispered. "We’re gonna find you some water."

She turned again to Lawrence who simply approved with a nod; _woah, did that count as a dialog line?!_ Vivian bit on her lower lip to hold a laugh. That being said, she was thirsty as well; she slowed down a bit, long enough to take her canteen from which she drank a long, warmish swig of water. Her horse stopped on its own and, a couple steps farther, Lawrence turned towards her while she tied her canteen back to her saddle.

"Can… Can I ask you somethin’?"

Vivian was almost surprised to finally hear the sound of his voice. She chuckled.

"I started to think you weren’t going to talk to me before we reach Pariah!" she gibed, still smiling.

He grumbled an inarticulate sound, clearly embarrassed.

"Ask away," she encouraged him.

"Yeah… I was wonderin’, do we know each other? It’s… I’m sure I already saw you somewhere."

A strange shiver ran from Vivian’s head to her feet; she did her best to keept a straight face as he continued:

"But, try as I may… I can’t recall where that can be."

Vivian shrugged.

"Wasn’t the first time I came to Las Mudas, today," she dodged, ashamed of her lies and how forcefully casual she tried to act. "M-maybe we already spoke back then."

Lawrence’s whole expression couldn’t have looked more skeptical. Yet, he nodded slowly in approval, shifting his attention back on the prairie around them.

Vivian blamed herself for these lies that would likely only cause him more confusion but, given the circumstances, she didn’t really have a choice! Spilling the truth point blank wouldn’t do him any good…

She had her tablet in one of her saddlebags just in case, but she would rather not attract the control room’s watchful eyes on her little field trip by using it while she was supposed to be on leave… Even if it was in the park. The staff wasn’t allowed to take their tablets with them outside the hub, unless it was for a field intervention. That being said, it was kinda what she was doing now, _a field intervention_ , but Vivian had no intention to play on words, or to take more risks on the matter.

And for what she observed of her script so far, _nothing unusual_. It was the effects she had noticed during their analysis sessions when the command wasn’t enabled; a feeling of _déjà-vu_ , a faint something close to a memory…

But Vivian didn’t dare to enable it for now, not while he was struggling with this very feeling, potentially risking a glitch.

"Nearest stream is within a few miles," explained Lawrence when Vivian and her horse were back at his side. "Once we got there, we can water 'em and start lookin’ for somewhere to stop."

Hearing this, Vivian pulled her watch from her pocket; it was only half past five but she imagined very well how finding a safe spot to spend the night wouldn’t be as smooth as booking a room in a motel!

"Do you take this road often?"

He had finally made an effort to break the ice — it was her turn, now. Even if she kinda new the answer already.

"Not in a while… but it can’t have changed that much since the last time."

"Should I worry about us getting lost?"

"What!? No!"

She shot him a playful smile and Lawrence seemed to relax.

"No," he then assured her. "Ain’t been in Pariah for some time now, but I was around not so long ago. Hell, even if I don’t know where I’m goin’, this one would find his own way alright!"

Lawrence patted the shoulder of his dark brown horse which shook its ears in response.

"He’s stubborn but he’s a smart one," he continued, fondly. "I even taught him to run back to me when I whistle!"

Vivian appreciated that he’d confide in her like that, with such a touching pride, even when he added:

"Well, he obeys when he wants to but… he knows how to do it."

"I see what you mean," she commented. "I’ve known pigheaded horses of that kind!"

"Are you the daughter or… or the wife of a rancher, something like that?"

Vivian could sense his _curiosity_ percentage right there…

"No," she answered, laughing. "Some friends had…"

She wondered whether she should "lie" again; it was a bit complicated to tell him she had never done anything other than leisure strolls back when she was a teenager, and that the stables’ owners — more acquaintances than friends — just happen to have bought a show horse with a bad temper.

"They had horses, including a _smart ass_ like that, stubborn but pretty quick as soon as a chunk of bread was involved!"

Lawrence chuckled with a nod of approbation.

"Someone told me once that children have a short memory but a quick mind… Might as well apply to horses too!"

Vivian’s blood froze in her veins and the sudden gut-wrenching dread made her dart scared looks around; she already pictured in her head one of security response teams or even her own co-workers hurling themselves from behind the rocks to deal with the issue… and with her. But no-one popped from the ground, not even from anywhere else.

"Wha… W-who told you that?"

She knew that all too well but she wanted to hear what he had to say about it.

"Can't rightly say," he muttered. "But it always sounded quite true to me."

Vivian bobbed her head in silence, staggered with a crippling mix of fear and guilt; she had a good understanding of what she had done with this script… but she had never considered such a scenario — in which, among these memories, _his memories_ , there was also her voice command.

Vivian suddenly felt so dumb she could have smacked herself in the face!

She refrained to do so however, to focus instead on all the possible outcomes of such a discovery but, quickly, her head was reeling and she had to grasp the saddle's horn not to fall.

"Didn’t mean to pry…"

Lawrence’s voice brought her back there, in the hills, under the immense clear sky she knew to be dotted with satellites, overseeing the whole park. The cameras Graham was talking about… All of a sudden, Vivian would have loved to hide from them, on the contrary!

She turned to Lawrence; he was eyeing her, uneasy.

"It’s fine," she faltered, choking on her own words. "No problem…"

He nodded, without a sound. Vivian didn’t add anything either, not even to disable her command. When she came to meet him here, she was planning on enabling it anyway, _so why trembling now that it was?_

_Was it cowardice not to turn it off? Morbid curiosity? Or even both at once? And then, wouldn’t it be better to let things flow without forcing them rather than disabling it to re-enable it later on, when she would feel ready to do so?_

Vivian had such hard time to contained an ice cold shiver that her horse shook too, snorting.

"Good to go?" Lawrence asked, shortening his reins.

"I suppose so…"

Taking the validation he needed in her answer, Lawrence pushed his horse to a trot on the path, Vivian behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

Galloping wasn’t the most conversation-friendly gait but this time, Vivian had welcomed the silence; she needed to think about what had just happened, about the whole heap of conflicts it could trigger… Then again, they had barely covered a mile before she overflowed her own mind. On the brink of a panic attack, she had stopped her calculations and guesstimates to reach an understanding with herself; she would observe in silence and react accordingly. An understanding that made her feel better for the rest of the way but still left her with an aftertaste of anguish she couldn’t outrun, even at galloping speed.  
When they finally stopped, by a stream going deeper between two steep hills, Vivian was as breathless as her horse. Lawrence had already dismounted and was steering his horse on the riverbank while watching their surroundings.

"Here, it’s gonna be fine," he stated, pointing towards a rocky mound covered in trees overlooking the stream. "We’ll be out of sight, even with a campfire…"

Preoccupied as she was, Vivian hadn’t really paid attention to the landscape for the last miles but now, she was reconnecting with the wonder she felt earlier today when leaving the lift. She dismounted too, gritting her teeth as she tried to ignore the sharp pang of pain striking through her numbed legs, and led her horse to the river; it dived its throbbing nose in the water, making it bubble with a breath. It raised its head, startled, before diving back once calm. Vivian chortled and petted its neck above which she watched Lawrence; his obvious weariness aside, he seemed quite alright. Her relief was so strong that she felt her knees quake. She even jumped when her horse stirred its nose from the water to snort loudly, sputtering a rain of greasy droplets against her boots.

"C’mon, follow me," Lawrence invited with a lenient smile. We gotta settle before it gets too dark.

He went ahead, leading his horse by the bridle towards the heights; that last tiny effort felt like the hardest but Vivian held on, climbing the gentle slope which led into a rocky clearing, fenced by dry bushes and small trees with twisted trunks. Once finally still, she cursed all the numbing hours she spent in her office or in an elevator.

"We’re gonna let the horses here," Lawrence said, waving towards the trees. "They’ll be alright… and so will we."

He pulled a thin rope from under the rifle’s scabbard and handed his reins to Vivian; then, she watched him circling the tree and tying a knot with the rope, before gesturing to her to bring the horses. He rolled the reins of his own around the rope before letting the bridle loose on its neck, like a weird lasso.

"There," Lawrence mumbled, caressing the nose of his horse. "Ain’t perfect but I wasn’t plannin’ on hitching two of 'em."

Vivian bit on her lower lip, feeling a bit sheepish.

"Don’t worry," he assured her with confidence. "It’s just fine for ‘em. They want rest as much as we do, they won’t step on each other’s hooves."

And he started to take the saddle off his horse while Vivian tied hers to the rope the same way he had; it didn’t even wait for her to be done buckling its bridle back on its neck to rummage through the gray grass at the foot of the tree. It took her a bit of time to unsaddle but eventually managed to do so and slide it off the horse’s burning back — damn, all that stuff was heavy!

Vivian was pretty happy to put all that down, even if she still had to arrange a makeshift bed with it. For that, she shamelessly copied Lawrence’s setup; the result was not as convincing but looked close enough. Had someone told her that, at some point in her life, she would sleep under the stars like a cowboy, Vivian wouldn’t have believed it. And yet, that was exactly what she was about to do now. But, as it happens, she was so tired just now that she thought herself perfectly capable to fall asleep anywhere, and anyhow.

With an exhausted smile, she picked up her saddlebags at her feet and dropped them beside her saddle.

"Oh, shit…" she mumbled, teeth clenched — _there was her tablet in there!_

Vivian rushed to open one of her bags; she searched between her gloves and biscuits to find the lacquered edges of her tablet stuffed in her leather travel kit. It didn’t seem to have suffered from the fall. Vivian had put that thing through quite a lot though, but it still was no reason to give it the final blow now.

She glanced around; Lawrence had walked off a bit further down the hill to pick up some more rocks like those already gathered at the center of the clearing.

So, Vivian pulled out her tablet in a slow movement, almost ceremoniously, as if she feared that any sudden move could draw attention to her; kneeling on her saddle blanket, spread like a mattress on the ground, she felt the tablet, turning it again and again in her hands… Vivian had to fight the impulse to open it, to turn it on and to connect to Lawrence’s signal to check what informations she’d receive from it, the stability of his code, that of her script… She drew a long, fluttering breath, her hands clenched on the folded tablet. In all honesty, she doubted she could turn it on without getting caught by the control room and, just in case, she’d rather not. Not unless there was an emergency. Which, for now, was far from the case!  
That settled, her shoulders dropped and she sat on her heels, tapping with her fingers on the glassed surface; Vivian stared at her reflection on it before turning away, wincing. And she stowed the tablet back, safe in the kit. Teeth still clenched, she removed her hat and put it on her bags to massage her neck, head held low. Her mind felt heavy by gravitating around the same anxiety-loaded thoughts… to the point that she couldn’t even figure why she was so afraid anymore.

Footsteps made her raise her head; Lawrence was coming back, holding three big rocks in his arms.

"Somethin’ wrong?" he asked, crouching to drop his haul with the others.

"No, no…"

She took her knife from her kit and tied it to her gunbelt, behind her holster, and stood up — not without pain.

"Just taking a breather," she summed up. "I’m gonna get some firewood."

He nodded, wiping his hands on his pants and Vivian went to collect broken twigs and few handfuls of dry grass around their camp, leaving them within reach before going a bit farther to find more. The spot was rather generous, so it hadn’t been too hard to gather a nice bundle she kept under her arm to pick up some more grass behind two shrivelled trees, where the crag was forming a deck-like promontory. She trudged effortlessly onto the rocky eminence, flat and welcoming like the palm of a stone giant giving the horizon away. And it was vertiginous, expanding unevenly outwards, waning under the ashy light the setting sun left behind, at the slow pace of its fall. Vivian had a soft chuckle ending in a sigh of admiration; she knew the park was gigantic but never knew it to be _majestic_ !  
She took the time to behold the ocher rock adorning itself with the blue of shadows in the evening chill, heavy with the still warm smell of earth and grass, in which crickets and other nocturnal insects already started to trill. Vivian shivered a little; not so much because of a breeze than the thought that she hoped she wouldn’t be too bothered by some critters, whether big or small. It was trivial but… she couldn’t help it. She stayed a bit longer however, upright in the face of Nature, gawking — mesmerized — as all of it sunk into the night.

_"Ivy?"_

Vivian pulled herself out of her contemplation, glancing behind her before heading back to the camp, picking up some more branches she hadn’t noticed on the way up. Lawrence was done rearranging a fire ring of big stones where he had put twigs and grass he was trying to lit with a flint lighter.

"More wood," she announced, putting her "pickings" nearby. "Need help?"

"Yeah, sure…"

Vivian divided a handful of grass to add carefully under the branches, tepidly licked by some shy little flames as they consumed the pelote of dry grass Lawrence had already put there. A few blows on the new handful and the fire grew stronger. When the branches started to crackle and the flames to rise, they stayed still and silent for a moment, enjoying the comforting heat as the sky kept getting darker. In front of her, Vivian heard Lawrence sigh peacefully and it was all she needed to calm her anxious thoughts. She flicked him a glance above the flames; he was rubbing his hands, as if to warm them, thoughtful and frowning.

"If you don’t need that anymore…" she said as she picked up what grass remained. "I’ll share it to the horses."

He encouraged her to it with a move of his hand, then returned to his makeshift bedding to lean back against his saddle. Vivian could feel his eyes on her but didn’t turn around before reaching the tree to which the poor beasts were tied; their coats was glued with sweat and dust, and she scrubbed them from withers to croup, using the grass as a brush. One after the other, they showed their satisfaction by snorting and shaking their heads before getting back to shaving all the brushes within their noses reach.

Once their minimalistic grooming done, Vivian shared her brush-of-grass with them, and they tugged hungrily every blade of it from her fingers.

*

After a few scratches on their forelocks, Vivian went back to sit near the fire where Lawrence was busy going through his own saddlebags while chewing something. She was so hungry herself that she couldn’t think of anything else than her biscuits. They were fine in their bag and she sat heavily on her blanket to relish a bite ; that was more or less her first meal of the day!

The first mouthful comforted her so much already she let out a tiny grumpy whimper. She couldn’t tell for the local cuisine, but the biscuits from Las Mudas were up to the reputation — and Vivian’s appetite, as she took another, more generous bite. She kept her eyes closed to focus on the taste and the feeling of satiety which was outright giving her chills — _it was about time she ate something!_

"Got only biscuits?"

Vivian forced herself out of her bliss to look at Lawrence. He seemed to be surprised, maybe even amused.

"Yes," she said finishing her bite. "But that's enough, don’t worry."

In fact, there were some days on which she happened to eat much less than that; a coffee or a tea in the morning, a salad at noon, sometimes as much for supper… But Lawrence didn’t seem convinced. He scoffed, unbuckling his gunbelt to leave it by his saddlebags from which he pulled some kind of small bag made of tablecloth he handed to Vivian. She stood up, truly curious, and came to sit next to him to open the bag in which she discovered a bunch of big, nice brown strips of dried meat.

"I’m sure it’s alright," Lawrence joked. "But you’re still gonna eat a bit better with that."

Vivian felt herself blush.

"Thanks," she simply answered in a whisper.

She picked a piece of meat from the bag and didn’t even hesitate an instant to bite in it. And now, she was even eating _jerky_! The texture of the meat was rather pleasant even though the flavor was different from what she expected; it almost tasted like a protein bar… a salty one. But that might also be because she had just stuffed her mouth with a big biscuit right before. Vivian handed the bag back to Lawrence and he picked another piece from it. The fire cracked in its ring, creating a strange but peaceful music with the crickets and the frequent hoots of an owl she imagined to be huge given how loud it sounded despite the distance.

"Tomorrow mornin’, we’re gonna have to be up early," Lawrence declared, breaking the silence settling back between them.

"How early?"

He answered with as slight wince:

"Very early…"

He nibbled on his remaining bit of jerky.

"When we’ll ride down in the prairie, we’re gonna have to leave the road for some miles…"

Lawrence shot Vivian a glance and added, facing her silence:

"By leavin’ earlier, we ain’t gonna waste too much time on that."

"Why d’you want to leave the road?"

Even though Vivian’s question was on a neutral tone, almost soft, Lawrence grumbled at having to answer. He licked his fingers before removing his neckerchief in a nervous gesture.

"I’ve to make certain to steer clear of some folks along the usual road."

And for now, it was her eyes he was avoiding.

"It’ll be safer that way… But, then again, it could take us longer to reach Pariah 'cause of that."

This time, he raised his gaze towards Vivian who was still studying all his body language.

"I can understand that you ain’t too happy about it…"

Vivian shrugged, turning to the fire.

"Well, I’m gonna be even less happy to find myself stuffed with lead in the wilderness 'cause some folks didn’t take kindly on us riding too close to their lands!" she replied, on a teasing tone.

Turning back to him as he wasn’t saying anything, Vivian noticed he was staring at her again.

"We’ll take the road you think best, Lawrence," she concluded while stretching her legs with a stifled whimper. "You know where we are, anyway… I don’t."

She had a faint idea but no specifics. Lawrence thrusted his hand into the bag to pick a piece of jerky he then offered to Vivian; he nodded in sign of gratitude as she accepted it.

"Shouldn’t add us more than half a day," he informed her, tying the bag closed to put it back in his open saddlebag behind them. "A full one, maybe… If we decide to take our time once we’re back on the road."

Vivian approved in silence, her mouth full.

"I can take first watch, if you want," Lawrence offered as he pulled the Winchester from its scabbard to place it near him. "That, or you wake me when you got enough, and I’ll get you up at daybreak."

She hurried to finish her bite.

"I’m fine with first watch."

She was used to go to bed late, and sleep _too little_ , might as well put that training to the test!

"Ain’t to much of anythin’ to fear tonight, anyway," Lawrence added, as to quell her doubts. "Not much folks around here."

But Vivian wasn’t too worried about that; she acknowledged and came to sit back on her own blanket where she granted herself the benefits of a long warm gulp from her canteen. Tonight, she’d keep watch at campfire’s light, and a revolver at her side.

To be honest, Vivian had no idea how to feel about all that! Lawrence brushed his vest with his palms, getting rid of the dirt still on before removing and rolling it into a pillow he then propped on his saddle against which he leaned; he put his hat back on his head, the brim low before his eyes, crossing his arms and his ankles, legs stretched, and let out a relaxed sigh. His confidence helped Vivian to, in turn, relax; she even smiled without realizing it — like an idiot, for sure — gazing at the stars as she couldn’t recall ever seeing them, and at the fire cutting graceful shapes of light on the boulders.  
It was still a one-of-a-kind moment that Vivian enjoyed in all its contradiction — nothing was more simple than a night under the stars… But in this park, even that wasn’t so simple anymore.

Movement on her left pulled her out of her thoughts. With his thumb, Lawrence was raising the brim of his hat to snoop at her; Vivian let him, pretending to ignore him, amused. It was her turn to be curious — what was he going to say, or do? Except that she wasn’t that patient, so she waited until she couldn’t repress herself to glance at him. Caught in the act, she chortled and Lawrence simply smirked before letting his hat fall back on his eyes and his hand on his chest.  
After that curious moment, Vivian was nothing but delighted about the absence of conflicts, tensions or other sources of glitch her script could have caused in _character mode_. That was something she had never tested before today! Not really… and certainly not in the long run. These were all good signs!  
And she even was perfectly happy with that semblance of improvised gestures. She wasn’t really sure she had ever noticed something like that before… With him, or with any other host.

With a shiver of disgust, Vivian rebuffed the wrong turn her thoughts were taking; she shouldn’t be thinking like a Behavior tech as long as everything was fine — she would only be Ivy, a more gutsy version of herself, who was going to Pariah — and just enjoy the ride, _while it lasted_. With a peek to her pocket watch, she let out a sigh; it was much easier said than done…

*

Another thing that was easier said than done was to stay focused — and maybe even awake — for her shift without doing anything else than shaving sticks with the blade of a knife closer to a cheese cutting one than an actual hunting tool. Not that Vivian would have wanted a bigger one, though… She had nothing to compensate, as they said, as much as she had no any other use for it than what she’s been doing for a good hour now.  
And as it was starting to get a bit colder as the night thickened, she had even put her gloves back on. She did have an authentic cowboy bedroll tied to her cantle but, as Lawrence wasn’t using his, she didn’t dare to take hers out either. It was dumb, she was well aware… but she was also aware that she didn’t really know how to tuck it back the way Graham had, or whoever had saddled her horse. And she wasn’t really up for facing the crushing shame of displaying her obvious lack of "camping" skills. Or to lose time doing her best to stash it back.

Nevertheless, she had to admit that the cold and the tiredness would have been easier to ignore with something a bit more stimulating to focus her attention on… Of course, as she was the product of her time and her profession, Vivian first thought had been for her tablet before backing off, for the same reasons still — circumstances hadn’t changed but old habits died hard!

While pocking fun at herself, Vivian had turned her attention to the fire and the branches, and the hours passed just like that, in the still of night. She was throwing a small stack of bark in the fire, bit by bit, when she heard what seemed to be a groan, coming from Lawrence; she smiled at the idea that maybe he was snoring when he sprang awake, holding his hat on the top of his head and with his whole body so tensed he looked like he was going to jump. And Vivian had been startled too, holding her stick and her knife tighter. Lawrence removed his hat and turned to Vivian with a puzzled look.

"Are… are you alright?!"

Worried to such a point her heart had started to pound painfully, she put her stick and knife down, ready to get up but Lawrence relaxed a little; his shoulders loosened as he let out a short sigh. He nodded and muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand:

"Yeah, yeah…"

Vivian nibbled on her lips.

"Bad dream?" she suspected.

Hosts couldn’t _dream_ by definition… but considering that he had fallen asleep with her command enabled, Vivian was ready to believe that he had just "dreamed", and maybe for the first time. It could came as a shock! For this reason, she wasn’t really at ease when he mumbled, as an answer:

"You… you can go to sleep. I’m gonna take over…"

She nodded slowly.

"Are you sure you’ll be alright?"

" Sure," he replied, casually. "Ain’t the type to sleep heavily, _all the time…_ "

It was a nice rationalization improv but Vivian wasn’t so sure she’d be happy with it this time. She winced, embarrassed, before agreeing without another word. Insisting would only serve to stress out how unusual the thing was while, on the contrary, she ought to further him to normalize it.

Pulling her watch out of her pocket, she barely deciphered the time — _twenty past midnight._

"Fine…"

Vivian then settled; she unbuckled her gunbelt and remove her vest despite the chill of the night to cover her shoulders with it. She tucked herself against her saddle, as comfortably as she could. It was a bit stiff, but it would do for the few hours she’d sleep. Vivian stretched her legs until she felt her muscles balk, and her only regret was to not being at liberty to remove her boots.  
Next to her, Lawrence had put his gunbelt back on his hips and seemed perfectly watchful. Closing her command now would be useless — wouldn’t it be better if he could recollect some glimpses of memory to help him make sense of what had cut his night short? Vivian clenched her jaw, prey to her doubts. Besides, he didn’t seem to lie when claiming to be alright!  
Maybe she could sleep a little after all, just so she could be fully herself tomorrow instead of falling asleep in her saddle? Vivian took a deep breath full of the smell of leather and horse mingled, and let herself go, listening to the crackling fire Lawrence was refuelling.


	6. Chapter 6

It was one of the horses’ snorting that pulled Vivian out of her sleep, and her confused dream. She glanced with uncertainty around her; it was the buttcrack of dawn and everything looked gray to her now that the fire, reduced to its embers, wasn’t casting its warm golden light anymore. Vivian sat up painfully and rubbed her eyes with a lumpish hand — it was about to be a rough morning!

Everything was calm around her and even the horses were nibbling at each other’s nose playfully… Except she was alone. A sinking feeling rooted her to the spot as a shiver shook her entire body.

"L-Lawrence?" she called, without raising her voice too much.

She shouldn’t have slept, not given how he had woken up! If there had been an issue while she was sleeping, if her script had generated a feedback loop, if…

"Shit!" she grumbled between her teeth.

She stood up, staggering, and watched the clearing around her; there were only the horses, their stuff… and her.

 _"Lawrence!"_ she called, louder.

Vivian heard her own voice tremble and let out a string of expletives while hurrying to her saddlebags to take her tablet out; her gloved hands were also shaking and gave her a hard time to unbuckle the straps. When she finally reached her tablet, it almost slipped from her hands.

Footsteps on the path made her turn around, a hand on her gun’s butt in the holster near her bags and her tablet held tight against her.

"Mornin’," Lawrence greeted her as he appeared, hands full of their canteens trickling with water.

"You…"

Vivian held back all end to her sentence, teeth clenched, and took a sharp breath that she released almost immediately, relieved. He had scared the shit out of her!

She couldn’t answer yet, shivering as she was and her jaws clasped. Stopping next to her, Lawrence handed her the canteen back and she grabbed it with a grateful nod.

"Thanks," she finally said.

She abandoned her tablet on her lap and took a cold sip that finished to wake her up — if she wasn’t fully already. She groaned a little, her thirst quenched, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Lawrence turned his back to her to put his own canteen next to his bags, and Vivian took the opportunity to stash her tablet back. _No fuss, no muss…_ Or so she hoped.

Then, she removed her gloves to stuff them inside the saddlebag too before buckling her gunbelt back around her hips.

"How did your night go?"

"Very well," Lawrence assured, as he bent down to pick up his hat and blanket, shaking the dust off of it. "Calm an’ all…"

What Vivian was referring to was more about glitches and other issues but that answer would do just fine. She stood up to stretch a bit and put her vest back on; she was aching from everywhere but she felt good. It was a strange feeling that she enjoyed nonetheless. Not that she liked to hurt a ton… but in that case, it had something exhilarating. She really spent too much time in an office!

"We’ll go back down and follow the river for a few miles," Lawrence explained. "Once we reach the prairie, we’ll be able to let the horses loose for a while before…"

He took the time of his hesitation to lift his saddle on one hip and take his rifle under the other arm, barrel resting on his wrist.

"Before going back on hilltops were we’ll mostly be at a walking pace."

Vivian listened as she was untying her neckerchief to pour some fresh water on it.

"What is it you want to avoid so much?"

"South of the Ranch Lands…" he muttered, as he walked past her.

Then again, her question was more about _who_ rather than _where_ but she resolved to roll with that; she knew the general outline of his storylines anyway, so her educated guess would be enemies of all kind… and the Law. All very cross with him, no doubt.

Vivian put the stopper back on her canteen, leaving it hanging by its strap to her shoulder, and rubbed her neck with her wet kerchief. On the horizon, the sun was still only a pale blur reflected by the clouds massed in the sky where the most shining stars were still twinkling. Vivian let out a long sigh, burying her face in the damp kerchief before sticking it in her gunbelt while she gathered her things; also, she ought to saddle her horse and she couldn’t tell if her lack of practice wasn’t about to take her all the time Lawrence wanted to gain on their detour!

Fending off that thought with frustration, Vivian shook herself, and her blanket. And much faster than she had thought and feared, they were ready even before the sun had fully risen.

*

The horses relished to start their day’s long scamper with a swift jog in the river’s water before going back on dry ground where Lawrence and Vivian let them run at full speed once they reached a long stretch of prairie. But gnawing on the dry bushes, and half a biscuit each this morning, hadn’t been enough for them to push onwards with the same flare as yesterday…

So, they had to slow down a bit and let them dawdle from tufts of grass to bushes but after about ten minutes or so, Lawrence suggested a brief halt at the nearest town. Simply put, their horses needed to get their tanks full and the closest one-stop shop was half an hour of gallop from there…

As for her, Vivian had no objections but she understood what Lawrence meant; it would make them waste some of that time he wanted to gain.

Nevertheless, they didn’t really have a choice; _"who wishes to ride far, spares his steed"_ … and they lead the numb gallop of their horses slightly more to the east, towards a road that wasn’t really one. The place they reached wasn’t really a town either but few houses and undefined buildings, slapped together along a dirty trail. However, it wasn’t abandoned; a rider came across them in the opposite direction, some more horses were hitched to a post, a man was reseating a stool in front of a wooden stable and two women were chatting before a house front door… They frowned upon their arrival as a shabby dog barked at their horses’ legs. Lawrence and Vivian dismounted in front of the stables.

"G’day," the guy working on the stool greeted.

Lawrence simply nodded as an immediate answer.

"How much for some food for the horses?" he asked without much more politeness.

"Eh? Four-bit… Want 'em watered too?"

"No, it’s alright…"

Vivian observed the exchange without interfering. The guy stood up in a clumsy leap before limping inside the stable from which he addressed them some muffled words. When he got out, he had an armful of hay that he threw in a wood manger as wonky as him in front of the stable.

"There," he said, waving to the manger as if that wasn’t obvious. "It’s for 'em ponies…"

Vivian bit her lips to hold back a laugh as they moved forward but the guy stood in their way, presenting an open palm. Even though he slurred some curses, Lawrence walked around his horse to search in his saddlebags, and Vivian did the same. Save for swearing.

Once paid, the guy moved aside, feeling the coin’s weight in his hand before they could finally take their horses to their food. And frankly, Vivian would have been glad to eat something too! Also, according to her watch, it would soon be eleven. She pulled one of her biscuit from her bags and joined Lawrence who had walked away to lean, arms crossed, against the timber fence marking out the stables from the street.

"Are you dodging our stable hand’s wisdom?"

"Yeah," he answered with a smirk. "He’s fucked up."

Vivian handed him a piece of her biscuit. He accepted, nodding.

"Any other time, I'd listen to his stories, sure," he continued. "But now, I don’t feel like it…"

And he silenced himself with a generous bite of biscuit. Nibbling at hers with more restraint, Vivian took the time to study this tiny place she still didn’t know the name of. There was actually a sign on the wood of the stable but the peeling paint was making the name unreadable — something like Bonewater. It was the kind of shit hole out in the sticks that, generally, harbored an overlooked access to the hub’s underground network.

A sense of restlessness took Vivian over as she realized she was acting like running away, not form a storyline but the backstage.

And yet, there was something else… The idea that she might be watched upon, just like the VIP guests, for instance. Vivian cast worried glances around her; save for the fact that everyone was staring at them with some sort of bewildered curiosity, nobody seemed to be a tech in disguise. Nobody, but her…

Lawrence must have noticed her discomfort because he whispered to her, on a conspiring tone:

"Apparently, they ain’t used to get new faces, around here."

" Yah huh…"

She tried to ignore the long stare of one guy swigging a glass with an elder under the only public building’s rickety porch — some sort of cantina — in front of the stables.

"We ain't gonna impose 'em ours much longer," Lawrence stated, tense. "As soon as the horses are done eatin’, we run to the hills."

He turned and leaned his elbows against the fence to watch the horses swishing their tails with satisfaction. Vivian only nodded as she finished her bit of biscuit. Herself had stayed in the same position she was. Under the porch, the guy knocked back his drink in one go, and refused when the old man tried to refill him; he stood up, a hand to his worn hat on his head as he strode down the wooden steps to catch one of the horses' reins hitched to the post. He had swift moves and shifty eyes — his whole behavior was one of a man trying to hurry without looking like it. And Vivian knew a fair share when it came to behavior…

The guy kicked his steed to a full trot to the south. Vivian shivered and without even noticing it at first, she had walked a few steps to the middle of the road. It was spreading onwards in a simple strip of dust, stirred by the horse’s hooves. Without really understanding why, Vivian would have wanted to be far from here already.

She went back to Lawrence, leaning her elbows on the fence next to him.

"How long will this stop take us on the time you wanted to save?"

"Not that much," he answered, now calmer than a moment ago. "An hour, maybe two…"

In front of them, the stable hand was abandoning his half-reseated stool to stand up and stretch; he waved towards them as if they had just arrived and limped towards the fence. Lawrence sighed slowly, making Vivian snicker.

"Why don’t y’all go grab a seat?" asked the stable hand, befuddled. "Maggy there, she made some stew…"

He waved again in the vague direction of the cantina.

"Your ponies ain’t gonna move from ‘ere, and they’re fine…"

"We ain’t hungry."

"Speak for yourself…" Vivian commented on a low and playful tone.

He eyed her meaningfully, with a smirk that turned into an actual smile as she answered to the guy, without facing him:

"We’ll be fine, thanks. We have what we need."

To give weight to her words, she pulled her watch from her pocket, pretending to quickly take a look at it — so quick, in fact, that she wouldn’t be able to tell what time it really was.

"Besides, we should be going," she declared, turning to Lawrence. "What d’you think?"

"Yeah."

They stood from the fence to confirm their decision.

"Oh, well…" uttered the stable hand. "Next time, then!"

Lawrence ignored the guy’s unspoken invitation and preceded Vivian to their horses; they had gone through most of their hay, now wiggling their big noses in the manger but failing to get a good grip on the last few strands remaining.

"Farewell! And be careful with 'em bandits, eh! We got some mean folks on this road, every now and then…"

Vivian nodded politely as she passed next to him too. Lawrence was right; she was too polite for this place! She couldn’t help it, though.

"But, well armed as y’all are…"

Vivian did her best to ignore him as well, as a practice exercise, sucking her teeth to keep herself from saying anything. She joined Lawrence on the side of the road, still followed by the guy and trying to turn a deaf ear to his jabber; they got back in their saddles and left towards the south as well.

*

One thing was for sure, there was much more spring in their horses’ steps after that little snack. What was less sure though, was the path they were taking — at least for Vivian who didn’t know the park’s geology or the topography by heart; she had quickly found out how the landscape could change so abruptly, one mile after the other. And unlike the underground network and what could the outposts surveys let suggest, nothing up there was in straight line!

Before this visit, she’d be tempted to believe going dead ahead to reach her destination would’ve sufficed… But during her scouting, the holographic maps didn’t leave her a single doubt about the harshness of the terrain and its influence on travel time.

That being said, Vivian was comfortable with the idea of trusting Lawrence to find their way in those tricky landscapes — she knew how capable he was.

And even then, if for a reason or another they happened to get lost, they wouldn’t really be; Vivian would simply turn her tablet on and geolocate them. The crime wouldn’t even be one since she would only get a slap on her wrist for taking her tablet out while off duty, not so much for searching her way, as opposed to the sanction she’d be subject to for accessing the core-code of a host, without justification…

For now, they didn’t need any of that. Before speeding up the pace, Lawrence had told her they’d continue on the road for the quarter of an hour before straying to a stretch of prairie and going back up in the rocky hills, openly visible in front of them already. He claimed they would pass them before the night and could stop lower in the valley before heading trough the plain, around the canyons, all the way to Pariah.

Vivian was up for that.

At the moment, the wilderness they were picking their way through was still looking the same as Las Mudas’ surroundings, and the chill air was making the ride enjoyable, despite the weariness Vivian was hushing up. She knew full well that, by going on such a journey, she was leaving her comfort zone, so she wasn’t about to complain; as they say, _"that’s the game"!_

But Vivian still had a hard time taking all this as a game — nothing of what she had discovered at her first visit or what she had witnessed ever since sticked to her definition of it.

To her, it was even flat-out cruel…

But no-one had asked for her opinion on the park management, only to code and debug what needed to be for the enjoyment of all.

Her jaws clasped by the frustration, Vivian pressed her heels for her horse to catch up with Lawrence’s, a couple strides ahead. They were getting past a turn winding along the curves of a mound topped with thinning bushes when they were forced to stop their horses dead in their tracks. Vivian’s even threatened to rear, raising its forlegs a few inches. A stone’s throw from them, three men on horseback were standing in their way.

They had iffy, ragtag looks, and because all of this smacked of a ludicrous ambush by highwaymen, Vivian wasn’t really worried — more surprised, to be exact.

_"Motherfuckers…"_

She glanced at Lawrence whose entire face expressed a painful blend of anger and dread. Now, Vivian was worried…

"Well, well…" spat the one in the middle, drawling, almost impressed. "Wha’ do we 'ave here!?"

He sat up straight in his saddle with a jubilant grin. If Vivian was to believe what she knew of Lawrence’s storylines, he was one of the Pardue brothers. Which one though, she couldn’t tell.

"My boys and me, we suspected you’d reappear sooner or later," he continued. "You’d 'ave to come out of your shithole sometime, where your cousins ain’t gonna be there to 'ave your back no more… So, we got ready to grab you by the neck!"

They snickered, undoubtedly proud of their ploy. Around the turn of the mound, Vivian heard another rider but she didn’t dare to turn around, even though she put her hand on her thigh, almost on the leather of her holster.

"Stroke of luck for Julius to see yer ugly mug, back there in Boneriver!"

He gestured towards the rider blocking the way out behind them; Vivian recognized him as the hasty guy under the porch. She tightened her jaw, furious not to have trusted her guts, not to have said anything about her suspicions!

"Don’t stay here, Ivy," Lawrence urged her behind gritted teeth, his hand at his gun. _"Go away!"_

"Ha, hey!" yelled Pardue, drawing his own gun to point it at them, one after the other. "No funny business…"

Lawrence took his hand off his gun and Vivian shortened the reins of her horse a bit, her eyes darting across the road for a way out under the brim of her hat; rushing to the left, they might take advantage of the terrain’s variations to lose them and take cover, should they shoot…

"Sheriff’s already on yer trail," added Pardue in whose voice Vivian could hear anger growing slowly but surely over his sarcastic tone. "But since we got you first, might as well do myself justice!"

His henchmen approved, almost eager.

"We’re gonna hang you dead ou’selves, then we’re gonna keep the horses, yours and your partner’s! You know, as… _compensation_."

Vivian and Lawrence exchanged a look; she couldn’t really tell why but she was certain he had guessed what kind of plan she roughly outlined in her mind — he had come up with the same idea, no doubt.

"Got a problem wi’ that?"

The horses grew restless but Vivian didn’t do any effort to contain hers; they’d get to gallop faster if they were already moving. At her side, she caught a glimpse of Lawrence also taking his gun slowly out of his holster — a cold shiver shook her whole. He wasn’t going get himself killed, was he?!

"Yeah," he grumbled as an answer, keeping his gun pointed at the ground. "You can say that…"

Gunshot rang and dirt scattered as he finished these words, causing panic among the horses and their riders but, with his still-smoking gun in hand, Lawrence and Vivian fled without a moment of hesitation, pushing their horses towards the hills; guns barked behind them and a bullet whistled past Vivian’s ear, making her bend in her saddle. Fear twisted her guts and she hastened her horse’s gait with a cry.

Behind them, she could hear their hunters shouting too, and another gunshot cracked in the air. Then, another — these guys were definitely trying to kill them! Not that she had any reason to doubt it, though…

Lawrence got ahead of her at full gallop and Vivian rushed in his wake, climbing the sloping terrain which turned into a hill under their horses’ hooves. They slowed them down on the rocky steep slope.

They were reaching some sort of small, dry plateau as their hunters got to the foot of the tilt. His gun back in his belt, Lawrence jumped from his saddle without even taking the time to stop his horse, which made a nervous volte around him at the end of its reins, while Lawrence was pulling the Winchester out from its scabbard.

"Take 'em to cover!" he ordered Vivian, throwing her the reins. "I’m gonna get us rid of these assholes!"

As she caught the reins, he literally shoved the horse towards her with a firm push on its croup. She heard him action the rifle's lever while she took their horses farther back behind the rock cover where she hitched them to the higher branch of a dried tree; she doubted of its strength if the horses started to yank, but in a hurry and with no other means, Vivian would go with it.

Gunshots echoed but she couldn’t tell who had fired them so she hunched on the way back, following the rocks with as much caution as if she had been on the edge of a cliff. In front of her, his hat left on the ground, Lawrence had his back turned to her, crouched behind one of the largest boulders protruding from the ground like a rotten stumps between which he was leaning on to aim. Vivian hesitated, casting a hinky glance to the bottom of the slope where the Pardue brothers and their men were prancing, their weapons raised; she could sprint to the rock cover but she’d be exposed for a few strides. Her heart was pounding but skipped a beat when she heard one of the riders rushed to the slope, only to be caught in flight by a rifle shot. Lawrence actioned the lever to reengage a bullet in the barrel and Vivian took the opportunity to dash; she hadn’t made four steps when a bang sent a bullet brush against her. Immediately, she went flat on the ground, her nose in the dust at the sound of the Winchester keeping them at bay again.

Vivian intended to pick herself up but Lawrence gestured her to stay down without taking his attention off their calling and shouting attackers, but she didn’t quite get the words as her blood was pounding too hard in her ears. She heard a horse neigh, a shrill whistle…

She shut her eyes and took a slow breath to try to calm down; somehow, it got worse… Clenching teeth and fists, Vivian reopened her eyes on her surroundings and prepared to make it through the few yards between her and the rock frame. A bullet buzzed past them and Lawrence’s rifle answered to it once more, eliciting a great commotion down below. Vivian saw this as her chance; she got up, the gravel hurting her palms as she put her whole weight on her arms to launch herself, bent forward and ducking her head as if under a hail — _a hail of gunfire._

Gunshots and bullets blared, forcing Lawrence to cower behind his boulder as one came crashing into it. Vivian tried to hurry. Maybe she stood up too much but, when another bullet flew the next second, she got thrown down, the sharp pain stifling a cry in her throat. The impact with the ground had been rough too, somewhere in her arm and behind her head.

_"IVY!"_

She heard Lawrence’s call over the victorious shouts of the Pardues and their men but, out of breath, Vivian didn’t move. And here she was, thinking the bullets couldn’t hurt the guests… Or maybe she wasn’t _guest_ enough !?

With this raging thought in mind, air found its way back to quicken her. This time, she groaned painfully, coughed and rolled on the side. No way she’d get back up again, not as long as bullets were still flying around. But, had she wanted to, she was so dizzy and her legs so sluggish she couldn’t have anyway. 

Instead of that, she crawled sorely towards the boulder behind which Lawrence was sheltered, his rifle held against his body with one hand and the other extended to her. Her breath weak and wheezing, Vivian continued to progress, hurting each time her body weighted on her right wrist, her sleeve already stained with blood.

"Come on…"

Lawrence crouched lower, back against the stone as if it could be enough to widen his reach. And maybe it worked — Vivian held her left hand to Lawrence and he wrapped his fingers in a tight clamp on her wrist before tugging her to him, behind his cover.

"Where’d you get hit?" he asked, obviously shaken.

Vivian was breathing a bit better now but her heart was beating so hard she wasn’t sure she could answer yet.

"I… I didn’t!"

The lie came too easily to her taste.

"I think…" she rectified, still stunned.

The pain in the back of her head wasn’t making her thoughts any easier.

"Stay down, hold still," Lawrence commanded as he pressed her on the ground with a firm grip on her still painful shoulder.

His hand got lighter as he touched her head to keep her low. Then, he finally took it off to action the rifle’s lever and focusing back on the riders, further down. This time, he wasn’t aiming to make them flee…

"Yeah, that’s it," Lawrence muttered behind his teeth. "Bring your fuckin’ faces over there…"

Lawrence was grinning, his brows wrinkled by a fierce look.

_"Closer…"_

His tone had nothing left of his usual smooth brassiness. In fact, he looked utterly pissed. He squinted, feeling the trigger with a light touch of his index as if he was stroking it, eager for the right moment to fire. Which came quickly; the sound of hesitant hooves on the path seemed to get closer and Vivian jumped when the Winchester shot cracked in the settling silence. There were neighs and shouts, followed by a flurry of bullets above their heads. Vivian curled up, her back against the stone and gun in her hands — one grasping the other to keep them from shaking. She had to do something…

Reaching that agreement with herself, another bullet came crashing in a rain of dusty rubbles against the rock in front of her, and made her flinch again, short-winded. Even though Vivian knew bullets couldn’t hurt her more than what had just hit her square in the chest already, she couldn’t keep her cool under their attackers’ heavy fire.

It wasn’t a bad thing somehow, it was spurring her to play the game! 

But even if it wasn’t her kind of game, she couldn’t stay on the ground without doing anything, aghast in her corner like a beaten dog! Vivian snarled against her own lack of courage. She couldn’t not shoot, she couldn’t just stay there, revolver in hand… _and not shoot_!

She had to remind herself they wouldn’t hurt her more, and she wouldn’t really hurt — or kill! — them either, that they would get fixed… Still, the adrenaline and the fear were real, the pain in her shoulder and wrist as well!

Vivian cocked her gun and rolled on her side to find a firing line without exposing herself too much; down the hill, the riders appeared to be arguing with each others and with a great deal of nervous gestures. From Vivian’s perspective, they were distributing roles… She swallowed down her fear without taking her eyes off them. One of the riders split from the group to gallop towards the road while the others faced the slope again.

"What is he doing?" asked Vivian, worried. "Is he gonna get some other guys?"

Lawrence slurred a sound.

"No," he then whispered. "They want him to go around. I think they’re tryin' to get us from the rear…"

For a split-second, Vivian was scared — _downright frightened_. And suddenly, the memory of what she had seen back there while hitching the horses came back to her like a slap.

"There’s nothing over there!" she blurted. "I mean… _it’s blocked_! Even for us, we won’t be able to flee that way."

Vivian glanced at him, impressed by his calm, before adding in a whisper:

"We’re stuck…"

"If we are, we ain’t gonna be for long," Lawrence replied with a smirk, not shifting from his shooting position. "I just need that asshole to get close enough…"

Vivian risked a look to the riders; if she got it right, there was only one of the Pardue brothers down there, and Lawrence was waiting for that one to move near the slope to shoot him down, obviously — she shivered at the idea. Below, the intimidating shouts resumed.

"Come down!" roared the one Vivian had identified as Pardue when he intercepted them on the road. "We got yer partner! You’re 'lone against us, now… We’re leavin’ you one last chance to give you’self up before comin’ to get you !"

"Yeah…" Lawrence grumbled for himself. "Go fuck yourself, Donald…"

A long minute passed as no-one moved, not even the riders, down hill.

"A’right!" Pardue shouted finally.

He didn’t say anything else, commanding two of his guys to go up with a nod of his head. Guns in hands, reins long, they led their steeds on the slope, watchful of their rock covering.

"Shoot one of 'em," Lawrence instructed her, his voice even lower than before. "I’m taking care of the others…"

Vivian’s focus shifted from one rider to the other, unsure, as they marched head-on.

"Th-the one chewing on his squirrel tail?" she asked, gesturing vaguely to her own mouth with her thumb to hint towards the one sporting huge friendly chops.

Lawrence held back a chuckle.

"Yeah, that one…"

Despite a sudden pang of anxiety, Vivian nodded. The narrowing terrain forced the two riders to go in a single line, the one Vivian had as a target ahead; she had a lump in her throat and her palms were sweaty, but she aimed. And shot. Recoil shook her ams, sharpening the pain in her wounded wrist but she tightened her clutch and her jaw to contain a whimper. She missed, but at least slowed the two guys’ progress. They held their horses, pointing their guns in a rough estimate of their position. Next to her, Lawrence hadn’t fired yet. The friendly chops chuckled.

"No more rounds in his rifle, I reckon," he commented to the one following him.

"I wouldn’t count too much on that, boys," Lawrence grumbled.

But their statement seemed to embolden them for they hurried their horses up the slope and Vivian aimed more carefully; she ought not to miss, this time. Downhill, Pardue was heeling his horse to join them and Vivian gritted her teeth, held her breath, aimed for the shoulder of her target — _and she shot_. The guy yelped when the bullet grazed his arm through the fabric of his jacket but no-one had the time to react before another gunshot roared. Behind the two guys, Pardue got knocked back in his saddle, his horse lifting its head brusquely as he pulled on the reins, arms in the air.

Making the most of the confusion the rifle caused, Vivian shot again, a simple bullet that came smashing in the ground to deter the riders from climbing any further. At her side, Lawrence had a light approving chuckle.

"Damnit… Don!" yelled the one at the back.

He spun his horse and hurtled down the slope to reach Pardue, wobbling in his saddle, a hand to his belly. The other rider went down too, his horse stumbling and trampling dangerously so much he was pushing it to go faster; once on the hill foot, each got at Pardue’s sides and it didn’t take them all that long to ride away in direction of the road. Vivian started to shake, as if every nerves in her body were finally loosening all at once.

"Fuck!" she exclaimed, choking on a stifled sob and sitting back against the boulder. "I… I mean…"

She stumbled over words for a second. But none of what came to her mind were any more pertinent.

"F-fuck!"

The gun in her hand suddenly got heavier. She felt her arm drop and the pain in her wrist flared when hitting the ground. Vivian let out a small painful whimper she muffled right away while, beside her, Lawrence was putting his rifle down to lean back against the rock too; he wiped the sweat from his forehead and temples with his sleeve, rolled up on his forearm.

"We’re gonna stay here a moment," he told her. "We have the upper hand here, should they come back…"

To be fair, Vivian doubted they would. And given Lawrence’s confident poise, he thought so as well. So, she sheathed her gun back — she guessed she wouldn’t need it anymore for the next hour or so, and she’d reload later. For now, she’d try to take care of her wrist; the throbbing pain was now quite hard to ignore, as much as the one in her shoulder… Or was it in her chest? It was so very fuzzy, _blurred_. Vivian couldn’t tell herself where she had been hit. But she had been, for sure; she would never forget the violence of that blow!

And up until today, she didn’t imagine the so-called safe bullets upon which was build the whole reputation of the most _badass_ narratives if not the park’s could actually hurt that bad…

Vivian felt her wrist through her blood-stained sleeve — _nothing broken_ but, clearly, the pebbles were sharper than they looked and had carved her skin. She had rolled up the sleeves of her shirt, and yet during her fall, or maybe when she crawled afterwards, they had rolled down and the fibers on the right one were now caught in the dried blood of her wound.

"Wicked awesome…" she sighed, tugging a bit on it.

And now, her hands were starting to shake and everything to get bleary ! It was about to be a pain in the ass…

"Hey, hey…" Lawrence called softly, kneeling in front of her. "Let me take a look, alright?"

He gave her a questioning but also concerned look and Vivian agreed with a nod. Carefully, Lawrence took the sleeve off the wound and Vivian saw it for the first time; it wasn’t very deep, nor straight, etched with superficial scratches, sprinkled overall with dirt and tiny stone chips.

"Gotta clean that up…"

He let go of her arm and stood up to pick his rifle and hat up from the ground behind him. Vivian also grabbed her own hat and dusted the thing by tapping it on her leg before putting it back on her head in hope to bury her shame in it — she was usually so careful, and still she found a way to get hurt on the first trip out of the Mesa in months… and to endanger her stay! 

_No way!_ She would grit her teeth. Vivian cursed herself in plenty for it as she followed Lawrence to where the horses waited; they hadn’t broken their branch, even though they seemed a bit flustered and Lawrence talked to them as he approached. His own was wriggling its ears furiously, pushing Vivian’s with its rump but it calmed down as Lawrence patted its neck. Vivian went to search through her saddlebags, pulling her first aid kit out and she took a peek at her injury — she had had way worse. It was painful and it would take some time to heal on its own, but that would be about it, hopefully.

She walked around the horses to go sit near the corner marking the only entryway to this secluded spot. From here, she could see if anyone was trying to take them by surprise after climbing the slope. With her palm and the tip of her fingers, Vivian tried her best to get rid of most of the dirt and drying blood mixed together over the cut and the scratches around it.

When she turned her attention back to Lawrence, he was sticking a flask in his gunbelt and, the strap of his canteen on his shoulder and rifle on the other arm, he came back next to her. He gave her the Winchester, which she kept resting on her lap while he was busy treating her; she totally could have done it but Lawrence was pretty adamant about doing it himself. So, Vivian indulged him.

After all, he had just entrusted her with the rifle, right?

She cracked a smile as she watched him, on one knee in front of her, opening his canteen and using it to rinse his hands. Vivian raised her eyebrows, surprised by this detail — his nails were still dirty underneath, but he had just totally washed his hands. Then, he poured some water on her arm. The blood and the dirt washed away, the wound didn’t seem that impressive anymore and Vivian relaxed a little — not a big deal enough to cut her "vacation" short.

"Do… d'you think they could come back?" she asked, shyly. "With more men?"

"No," Lawrence answered on a soothing tone, even though he didn’t raise his eyes to meet her gaze. "I shot their piss-poor excuse of a boss…"

He cleansed her grazed palm with a stroke of his thumb and a bit of water.

"It’s gonna keep 'em occupied for a while. Enough for us to be at the border by then…"

Vivian bit on her lower lip, stricken by an irrational dread.

"Could he die from that?"

Her question was received by an embarrassed silence. Lawrence briefly frowned and didn’t say a thing, untying his kerchief from his neck.

"Yeah," he finally said. "He might."

It was Vivian’s turn to frown; she was a bit appalled as much as, frankly, she didn’t really care! And this self-contradiction made her speechless. Until Lawrence was about to use his own neckerchief as a bandage, that is.

"What are you doing?!" she chuckled, holding him back. "I have bandages in my bag."

Design even took the trouble to make the thing immersive!

She removed her hand from Lawrence’s to point at the leather pouch next to her. With a sorry nod, he threw his neckerchief back on his shoulder to dig in the kit. Vivian felt a cold sweat when she glimpsed the smooth edges of her Behavior tablet, stuffed in one pocket; however, Lawrence didn’t seem to notice it, pulling out the bandage’s paper wrapping and unrolling it.

"Good thinkin’ to take somethin’ like that with you," he commented, starting to swathe Vivian’s wrist.

"Yeah, well… I was in no hurry to have any need of it. Especially for something so dumb!"

Lawrence scoffed. He was dressing her wound with the same ease as an old habit. Vivian kept a watchful silence while her adrenaline rush backlashed; numb and lightheaded, her blood was racing. She let herself go, just for a moment, eyes closed. She could still hear the gunshots and the buzzing of bullets… 

A pang ran through her arm up to the elbow when Lawrence’s thumb smoothed the cloth flat — Vivian sucked in a sharp breath; she might have sprained her wrist on top of that!

"Too tight?"

"No," she answered, feeling suddenly tired. "It’s perfect."

She bit on her lips once more to contain a yawn and the pain tensing her muscles as well.

"Here, have some."

He handed her the tin flask he had stuck in his gunbelt.

"Helps take the edge off…"

Despite her reluctance, Vivian took it and let Lawrence finish to take care of her arm. The alcohol had barely touched her tongue the flavour wrinkled her nose. She recoiled as she squeaked, tears almost filling her eyes.

"What the fuck!? W-what is that?!"

Lawrence shot her an amused glance with a crooked smile while finishing wrapping her wrist.

"Just whisky!"

She winced.

"Shit! Are you sure?!"

This time, he let out a quiet laugh and took back the flask she was handing him. Still, her hands weren’t trembling anymore, but the whisky — if it was just that! — had left a lasting rough and woody taste in her throat. It felt like licking the planks of a barrel, but once the burning sensation was gone, it wasn’t so bad. She didn’t have a trained palate to all the nuances of whisky, but this one did set the tone.

"Thanks, it’s…" she muttered, pressing her fingers lightly on her bandaged wound. "Thanks."

Lawrence nodded, without a word, and drowned any other answer in a long swig of whisky. Vivian put her elbows to her knees, removing her hat to pull her hair backwards as if she was gathering her thoughts with both hands. Now that she had a moment to face what happened, she felt a bit lost; she never imagined herself in such a ball game… and it was a lot to process.

"First time shootin’?" Lawrence guessed, on a questioning tone.

"At… at someone, yes!"

And she did her best to appear more relaxed than she really was, right now. Even a host was someone, according to her. She tapped nervously on the Winchester's brass receiver, across her legs. Lawrence looked a bit awkward, as if not knowing what he could answer to that.

"I think we’re good to go now," he finally said with a brief look for their surroundings. "That _Julius_ might still be tryin’ to find a way on the other side, but… let’s hope for him we ain’t gonna stumble upon each other on the road again. "

Vivian simply agreed with a nod. Then, Lawrence stood up to pack his flask, neckerchief and canteen away, before coming back with a handful of ammo for the rifle Vivian handed him.

"Got what you need?" he asked her.

"Yeah…"

Vivian drew her own gun, sliding the loading gate open and took a few bullets from her gunbelt hoops to slot them in. She had loaded her gun herself in the dressing room yesterday, and if this step has been a bit unnerving back then, she found it rather relaxing, at the moment. Also, without really taking her time, Vivian had been more meticulous than Lawrence who was already returning his rifle to the saddle's scabbard.

Once the gun full and back to her holster, Vivian stood up and gravity weighted heavily on her shoulders as she reeled towards her horse. Doubtless that hunger, emotion, alcohol, and heat didn't get along all too well… But Vivian had knots in her stomach and couldn’t have eaten anything, not even drunk maybe. She rubbed her tongue against the roof of her mouth where the whisky’s tangy taste still lingered.

With a sigh, she tucked the first aid kit back in her saddlebags and ran a careful hand over her throat and chest where the stabs of pain got worse now that she was calmer.

Hidden behind her horse, Vivian put the neckerchief aside from her throat; she was hot and would have wished to stash it away too, but she was afraid to lay bare what she guessed was an already huge and most suspicious bruise. Lowering her chin, she tried to glimpse the bullet’s blotch but only found a sharp pang under her fingers, somewhere around her throat and chest, too high for her to see anything clear without a mirror.

Her horse moved when Lawrence turned his own around, towards the exit, and Vivian tucked her neckerchief back in place with haste. She flattened the fabric with her palm, nervous, when her gaze met Lawrence’s; they steered their horses to the slope with as much caution as for their surroundings and the potential men that could have been left behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is [**an illustration**](https://cherloak.tumblr.com/post/187303240807/another-westworld-piece-of-lawrence-and-vivianoc) made by the amazing Cherloak on tumblr!  
>  _Check the blog! <3_


	7. Chapter 7

As night drew near, Lawrence and Vivian returned to the heights, after several hours riding without much encounters on the way other than a few riders — guests and hosts set on their own narrative — and a merchant with a cart. It took them a bit longer to find a spot as welcoming as the previous one before it got too dark.

Sitting on her saddle blanket laid on the ground for the night, Vivian was staring at the campfire’s flames twirling and cracking; it had been kinda mesmerizing ever since she managed to light that fire with what little firewood-worth stuff she found while Lawrence was taking care of the horses. His return took her out of her trance-like state and she shot him a sheepish, tired smile when he sat next to her, setting the bag of dried meat between them. He picked and munched on a piece.

"Ain’t Maggy’s stew… but it does some good anyway!"

At first, Vivian didn’t really understand — she got there was an in-joke she was missing and, suddenly, she remembered the stable-guy and his invitation… She laughed, a weak but genuine laugh. Then, she picked a piece too as Lawrence quipped:

"But if you ask me, what you got there and said stew are just as old!"

"Mmh," mumbled Vivian, still enjoying her meal. "I know who I’m gonna blame already if I get the shits…"

Lawrence chuckled and broke a wood stick from the small pile they collected to throw a piece of it in the fire which crackled louder. He kept his hands busy with the other half and silence settled — relaxing, for sure… but during which Vivian struggled to find the right words to ask her questions. In vain.

"What was… who were those guys, back there, and what have you done to them to… get them that angry?"

The flames and the clean-cut shapes of light they beamed on Lawrence’s face revealed the tension in his jaw as he threw the twig in the fire. He remained silent a second longer.

"Ain’t gonna lie to you…"

If she had a say in the matter, Vivian liked the truth better, indeed. But she didn’t stop him.

"These guys, it was Donald Pardue and a few of his ranch hands," he explained, still looking at her. "I rustled horses from him… and I’m wanted for that."

He twitched, and rubbed the back of his neck.

"That… and is brother’s murder."

He finally looked at her.

"Among other things…"

Vivian had no doubt there were _other things_ … But she didn’t mention it. She even wondered for a flash how his full narrative was unraveling when nothing and nobody were to swerve it within its multiple twists.

"Why did you steal those horses?" she asked instead.

"Except 'cause these assholes and I don’t get along?"

Vivian stared at him intently.

"After what happened, you kinda owe me a few explanations, don’t you think?" she pointed out gently.

Lawrence muttered, focusing back to the fire.

"Yeah… You’re right."

Still, he hesitated a bit more and only talked after a slow and deep breath.

"Not so long ago, two of my cousins came to find me and my men in our camp."

"Your _men_?"

Lawrence nodded slowly.

"Yeah, well… they follow my plans anyway. And there, the plan was to go relieve the Pardue brothers of ten or so of their horses in an open pasture, not too far."

He looked at Vivian. Her silence seemed to make him nervous.

"Always been a tension between them and… and us, in Las Mudas. Every time some horse thieves pass by their poorly kept pastures, they’re blamin’ it on my cousins or the townfolks. So, this time, we decided to put some truth to it."

She bobbed her head with the hint of a lenient smile.

"Next evenin’, we were in the pasture, gatherin’ horses. But it didn’t go as planned… The herd was better guarded that night and Emmett, Donald’s brother, got killed when we ran away."

"And… did you kill him?" Vivian asked while Lawrence let the silence last.

He shook his head.

"One of my cousins did," he corrected, holding her gaze for a moment. "The youngest…"

Vivian very well remembered a fetching, yet quite stressed young man, back in Las Mudas; suddenly, she understood his behavior. She listened as Lawrence continued:

"But I’m the one Donald saw next to his brother’s dead body so, it’s all the same to him."

He looked back at Vivian who wasn’t saying anything else, heedful. He stared intently at her as if he hoped to read her thoughts on her face before adding in a somewhat cold tone:

"Well, if I didn’t kill Emmett back then, I killed Donald today! So, one crime more or less ain’t makin’ much of a difference on my notices at this point…"

And Vivian had a feeling his storyline could go far, in all sense of the word.

"In the meantime, I knew my men would go straight to the border where the others were counting on the horses there," he continued, with a wave of his hand before diving it back into the bag to pick another shred of jerky. "So I stayed enough time at… at _home_ to make certain Donald and his workers wouldn’t dare to come lookin’ for trouble in town, or take revenge on the folks there."

He bit on the meat before resuming:

"Since they didn’t try anythin’ and there was no point in me stayin’ any longer, save for takin’ the risk to draw trouble, I left. And you know the rest from there…"

Vivian acknowledged, thoughtful. She picked some jerky too, a much longer piece she cut in half — no need to pig out all of their supplies.

" _The others_?" she quoted, finally. "What others?"

"Revolutionaries…"

Lawrence looked Vivian in the eyes, and she saw him clench his jaws again. She wondered what kind of reaction he was "used" or supposed to get upon this revelation to be that wary. To convince him of her friendliness, she nodded approvingly.

"You’ve been helping them for long?"

It wasn’t really a question to which she expected a clear-cut answer but more of a way to entice him to tell her more about it.

"Yeah," Lawrence answered with a long look for the dark of the night around them. "Many years… Enough to have spent more time on the other side of the border than at home!"

"Is that something you regret?"

Vivian had heard some delay in his voice, as if guilt or another unpleasant feeling was tugging at the back of his mind, having him hold back on each word. And Lawrence took yet another handful of seconds to think about her question; he mouthed a silent syllable then let out a short sigh.

"Now, that’s the thing… _I don’t._ "

The answer took Vivian aback.

"Truth be told, I don’t quite feel like I belong, back there," he said, possibly upset too by his own confession. "See, I’m better here, and goin’ to war in another territory than with my own family!"

He didn’t wait for any comment from Vivian to continue:

"I feel responsible, for… for my wife and my daughter, but…"

He paused, prey to his own doubts and Vivian held her breath; she identified the signs of a massive computing of improvisations — maybe even sorting a dissonance out — and, as astounded as she was by his revelations, she chiefly wished he wouldn’t throw himself overboard!

Vivian would have wanted to help him calm down but he resolved his "heuristic conflict" on his own:

"When I think about it, the best I can do for 'em and all this town is to be a problem as far as possible."

He shrugged, more resigned than disdainful.

"It ain’t fair for them, but…"

He stopped himself with a frown that made him look confused.

"Feels like we already had this talk…"

This remark elicited Vivian a shiver, something hazy between dread and pleasure. She waited for him to say more, without answering; she didn’t want to rush him, even less to interfere with his thought process and his feelings. She hoped he would speak about it by himself, and with his own words. Unfortunately, he didn’t say more — not on the subject, anyway.

"That’s why I’m goin’ to Pariah this time. I have some good friends, there, they can help me lay low this side of the border, and reach the other revolutionaries."

Vivian nodded, muttering a simple sound.

"So, if I understand correctly, you’re in fact an outlaw!"

"Can’t deny…"

"And I’ve been sent to you when I asked for someone trustworthy!?"

He looked embarrassed to Vivian, unsure even, whether she was joking — _or not_. So, Vivian let out the teasing laugh she was holding back, and Lawrence had a hint of a smile despite his persistent frown.

"Should I be on my guard after all?"

He finally relaxed.

"Ain’t gonna tell you what to do! Still, I’m a most wanted _son of a bitch_. That's about all there is to know about me."

Vivian laughed again — still teasing — before eating what remained of her shred of jerky.

"Why did you agree to help me if you’re such a bastard?"

Lawrence chuckled and shrugged again.

"I don’t know," he admitted on a laid-back tone. "You asked nicely…"

He scratched the ground with the heel of his boot. Vivian sucked in a slow breath and hold it before it turned into a grumpy moan; she was desperate to take her own boots off and dip her feet in water before reaching Pariah! She scoffed with a wry smile for herself — _what a poor frail little thing!_

"And… I still believe we already know each other from somewhere."

Lawrence’s voice called Vivian’s attention back to him; he had this slightly cocky demeanor again, with a smirk and piercing stare.

"Seems that it got you worried," she quipped.

Lawrence had a complaisant grin.

"Ain’t given the matter much thought since yesterday…"

And yet, she very well noticed the sidelong look he gave her.

*

A good hour had gone by on Vivian’s watch. The night had grown darker, provided that it was even possible, and the flames seemed only to struggle against the darkness more than pushing it away. Vivian shivered and added a few branches to the fire, which expressed its gratitude in a blaze of sparks.

Lawrence had slipped away not so long before that — to take a piss, no doubt — and Vivian had started to doze in front of the flames; the peaceful noises of nature were lulling her while she was trying to hear all the nuances and differences with those of their previous camp… and this effort of focus ousted the gunshots and the shouts from her mind in dribs and drabs. Eyes closed, she took a long breath which turned into a yawn she hid behind her painful hands. With the tips of her fingers, she felt her wrist. It went without saying that it would hurt for a while…

Lawrence’s steps almost made her jump as the fearful idea they had been found froze the blood in her veins. He sat at her side, shoulder against shoulder.

"How’s your wrist?"

Vivian nodded, pawing at her arm again through the bandages.

"Fine," she said. "I’ll survive."

She wouldn’t turn her nose up at some painkillers right now, but _she’d survive_. For now, she was feeling groggy; she didn’t think she could wrestle much more against sleep, tonight. As an answer, Lawrence put his arm around her shoulders to hold her close. Bewildered, Vivian yet didn’t rebuff him.

"You should go to bed," he suggested in a hushed tone. "I’m gonna take first watch, tonight."

Vivian let out a short sight almost despite herself, and her shoulders slouched under Lawrence’s arm.

"Yeah…" she grumbled. " _Whatever._ "

She had to face the truth anyway; she knew she couldn’t have lasted another hour!

"Thanks."

And she was sincere.

"I’ll wake you up in a few hours, when… there’s no more risk anyone's still looking for us."

"Mmh…"

That wasn’t a comment that would help her sleep peacefully. However, it was true. And Vivian hoped no-one would show up for the whole night! She’d got enough excitement for a day. Maybe even for a _lifetime_!

She scoffed at that thought and Lawrence let her go of his arm; Vivian unbuckled her gunbelt and rolled it around her saddle horn, her gun handle within reach and she used her vest as a pillow. It was still chilly tonight, but Vivian needed a bit of comfort.

Focused on the fire’s radiating heat and Lawrence’s proximity, Vivian relaxed with relief; all the muscles in her legs were hurting after those long rides and the sharp pain in her shoulder and chest was spiking with each heartbeat under her crossed arms. She heard Lawrence add more wood to the fire and settle back on his blanket, clear his throat, move his rifle…

These soft and reassuring sounds eased her mind and a few blurry ideas crept in already as she was drifting into sleep when an irritated sigh, a bit of a sentence, a muttered curse brought her back from her haze; sitting within arm’s reach, Lawrence was rubbing his neck, looking a little upset, and he threw a shard of wood in the fire as he would have a gravel in water. Starring at the flying sparks rising in the darkness, he scratched his stubble.

Vivian loved these details; he seemed thoughtful, perhaps a bit preoccupied, and despite the incongruity of this behaviour, these gestures for no beholder, he looked perfectly stable, even more _human_ …

Far from being worried now, Vivian was awestruck even; she doubted that her script — which only mingled with memory — elicited these spontaneous uses of his coded gestures, but she hadn’t spent enough time with a host in full character mode so far to notice ever such a level of depth. It was even more pleasing than what she had managed to get from a session…

And her wonder grew wider when Lawrence started to hum a tune, so low that she believed she had imagined it for a moment — but he was indeed humming, a song she didn’t recognize, and not loudly enough to keep her from sleeping.

Not once he turned to catch her peeking at him and he relaxed too, his arms resting on his knees as he continued his tune. A man who sings was neither anxious or in pain, in Vivian’s opinion; fully comforted, she closed her eyes and let herself fall asleep.


	8. Chapter 8

A more sudden sound than the others reached Vivian’s numb mind. _Nothing alarming_ — just a horse snorting, something like that… However, she didn’t know what woke her up first; that… or the now familiar voice calling her gently:

"Ivy?"

A weight — light — on her sore shoulder made her wrinkle her nose in discomfort as she began to stir. In fact, her whole body was hurting, numb as she was.

"Ivy, wake up…"

The pressure on her shoulder finished to pull her from her sleep; she tore her face out of her balled up vest and blinked on the gray morning gleaming over their small camp. In her sleep, she had curled up on her side — if it did her some good at some point, she was paying the price now! Vivian rolled on her back with a faint groan she muffled behind her pursed lips and sit up to face Lawrence, one knee to the ground beside her. She squinted at him, dazed.

"What time is it?" she croaked, surprised to find the day was up already, even barely so.

She patted in her vest, now on her knees, to find her watch but Lawrence beat her to it:

"Still early."

Vivian hid a yawn behind the bandages on her wrist, under her unbuttoned stained sleeve. She’d have to clean that sooner than later… For now, she left her arm fall on her vest and drew a slow breath, following Lawrence with her eyes as he stood up to go near the fire.

"You… you let me sleep all night?"

She wasn’t sure she ought to be displeased or grateful. For now, to be honest, she was a bit of both.

"What about you? You won’t get—"

"I’m fine," he cut her off in a still gentle tone, rummaging through the embers with one last stick from the pile. "I dozed enough to be rested."

Vivian didn’t reply.

"If there’s a time we had nothin’ left to fear, it was the middle of the night…"

From one rock of the fire ring, Lawrence took a dented metal cup to hand it to her carefully.

"What is it?" she asked, accepting the still warm cup.

In it, water was ruddy with a few brown leaves floating there and had a peppery but pleasant smell.

"Don’t know what’s the real name for it but we call it látigo," he informed her. When there’s no coffee around, it ain’t so bad.  
The tin was still hot enough to sting her palms without hurting her and Vivian enjoyed the steam on her cheeks.

"Is it as stiff as your whisky?" she grumbled, skeptical.

Lawrence smiled, and Vivian wanted to do the same.

"No. But it’s bitter like donkey piss!"

"Not sure if I wanna hear how you came to know what donkey piss tastes like…"

This time, he laughed heartily and Vivian dared a first timid sip; it was indeed a bit bitter but nothing as specific as Lawrence’s description. Not that she could compare anyway! After a second sip, Vivian came to the conclusion that it was like drinking an unsweetened tea… but stronger, like a maté.

" _Not bad_ , indeed," she confirmed, comforted by the warmth of the drink despite its taste.

Drinking something hot was one of those simple but non negligible luxuries which, without saying that Vivian was already missing them, were at least appreciated when able to enjoy them again.

"Thanks," she told Lawrence as she handed him the cup back.

He refused with a simple wave, still crouched in front of the fire as to watch over the slow death of its embers.

"Go on… Drink as much as you like. I already had one before wakin’ you up."

Vivian thanked him again, with a nod. She then enjoyed another gulp, eyes half-closed. _It would be even better with a biscuit_ , she thought as Lawrence mouthed a silent word, but cleared his throat instead. Then, he finally said:

"I… I had a… weird dream."

He glinted at her.

"You were in it."

"Me?!"

She got rid of a speck of leaf from the tip of her tongue. 

"What was it about?"

She was very impatient to know what he had to say. Lawrence hesitated, shrugged and sat down on his blanket before answering.

"It’s a little hard to… to explain."

Another glance to her but Vivian still didn’t say a word, focused.

"Th-there was this room and… we were sittin’ there. It was dark… as if no lamp had been lit…"

He looked suddenly distant as he spoke, absorbed in his memory, and Vivian held her moves and breath to listen to him.

"Yet, I… I was seein’ you very clear in front of me and… and we were talkin’."

She wanted to ask him if he could remember what they were talking about, a word in particular, a topic… but Vivian bit her lower lip to keep herself from making the slightest sound. The way his cognition was using — and rationalizing — the data from his archive was all at once fascinating and frightening, even if she was also still anxious as for its effects on the rest of his core-code.

"You told me a… a secret… and I wanted to hear…"

Vivian’s heart was racing so hard that she felt queasy. Never before had she been so painfully aware of the blood pulsing through her veins.

If Vivian wouldn’t have been surprised to get such a precise answer out of him in analysis, she was however quite puzzled that he even dared to broach the subject of his dream the way he was now, in _character mode_. So far, she would have defined Lawrence as the talkative kind but somewhat reserved on his feelings, mulling his own thoughts over rather than sharing them. 

Yesterday, his confidences about his family had caught her off-guard already.

But maybe that was just him opening about himself in the company of less hostile or brutal guests, adaptating simply to whoever he was talking to… That, or a deepest part of his mind identified just fine who he was talking to, and simply started a form of self-diagnostic. 

"And, um…"

He blinked as if snapping out of it, looking embarrassed — even more so when he mumbled:

"No, nothin’."

Vivian smiled as she started breathing again and drank another warmish sip before encouraging him:

"Why? What do you mean _'nothing'_?"

She could have sworn to see him blush. Vivian drown her urge to laugh in another swig.

"It’s… it’s a bit embarrassin’…"

"Why?" she replied, still smiling. "One of us was naked?"

Of course, it wasn’t a random question; Vivian guessed all too well what he had been dreaming about. But if there was something troubling him, she would rather tone it down straightaway for him to keep cool. And cool, he still seemed to be even if he turned a little pale and didn’t answer. Vivian chuckled and didn’t tease him any more. She downed her cup while it was still hot enough then, asked as she stood up:

"About that… Is it safe to kick my boots around here?"

Maybe he was still a bit bewildered by her wisecrack but Lawrence raised his eyebrows and remained silent for a second. She was taking her canteen and pouring a little water in the cup when he finally said:

"As much as anywhere, why?"

Vivian put her almost empty canteen back down and turned the cup in circles to make the leaves gather in the center.

"I’d like to dust off in the river."

She picked the leaves and threw the remaining water in a bush a bit farther.

"Can I do that?"

This time, they were camping far from the banks but still within sight. And the change of subject seemed to quicken Lawrence who jumped to his feet.

"Yeah, he answered, back to what Vivian would have called _'himself'_. "We need to fill up the sow’s bags, anyway…"

* 

Sitting by the water, Vivian finally took her boots off; they were really comfortable — that's for sure! — but after some time, removing them was even better. She let out a relieved sigh, her shoulders stooping as she removed the second. Her socks quickly followed and the fresh morning air was already enough to do some good between her toes she rubbed in her hands. As she expected, she found a bruise and the start of a blister on her heel but none of that wiped the stupidly happy smile off her face. It broadened even at the idea that so far, she was doing pretty well. Their encounter with Pardue and his guys included…

Vivian undid the bandage around her wrist, tugging carefully on the fibers caught in the crusted blood; she took a closer look at the wound and found it rather clean. Also, she wasn't hurting all that much at the moment — from there, her shoulder, everywhere… And she wondered if that _hangover brew_ Lawrence had given her wasn’t something of a painkiller. Her examination done, she stuffed the band in the pocket of her vest which she placed under her hat, on top of her folded boots, hoping that it would be enough to daunt any kind of crawlies to come find shelter in them.

When Lawrence offered to keep watch while she bathed, Vivian would have preferred it to be about said crawlies rather than any potential passersby. She stood up and glanced at him, sitting where he was, a bit higher on a small mound slumping all the way into the water, skirted with tall grass; he was showing his side profile, turned towards the road, rifle across his lap and a possessive hand on the receiver. He yawned behind the other one before rubbing his face. He would surely fall asleep more than keep watch over anything, according to Vivian who rolled the legs of her pants up to her knees — and that was why she kept her gun at her side when entering the water. If he was going to take a nap at the same time as anybody came to loot their saddlebags, she would totally fire in the air, or on the ground, to cool any covetousness down.

That’s what she told herself as she walked in the water, anyway…

The water was cold, _freezing cold_ , and there was a slight current but Vivian got in without hesitation. The horses didn’t need to be asked twice either to dip their noses in it just before, and were now hitched to a dead stump at the bottom of the mound, chomping on some wild grass on the waterside. They were peacefull and, actually, so was all the nature around them at such an early hour. Vivian gently brushed the surface of the stream with her fingertips before closely inspecting the stains on her right sleeve and try to scrub it first; even dry, the blood washed away better than she would have thought and she then rolled her sleeves up her arms.

She didn't mind shivering a little form the cold, so she unbuttoned the collar of her shirt all the way to the waist, tail and hem tucked in her trousers, and untied her neckerchief to dip it in the water; the cold was already nagging at her wound a little but she’d take care of her comfort before cleaning it. And for a few minutes, nothing felt better to Vivian than to wash her face, her shoulders and her arms… even with freezing water and a two days worth of dust dirty neckerchief!

Maybe she’d tell that story to someone, someday… But, strangely, she wasn’t even sure anybody would believe a word of it; her, the little introverted programmer who couldn’t survive without her computer and air con, had been riding in the hills for almost three days, alone with a bandit!

Vivian scoffed, wringing her neckerchief, and turned her head to see if _said bandit_ was catching up some z’s; she had barely made a move that she glimpsed Lawrence turning his head away, innocently averting her gaze.

A brief snort escaped Vivian, pursing her lips so that Lawrence wouldn’t hear it, not even in an echo.

 _One keeps oneself awake as best one can_ , she thought, still giggling. Even though she would have preferred him to spend his time to doze some more, if not sleeping. Also, what could he make out from up there anyway? Her neck, her shoulder at best? _Woah…_ It wasn’t like she was flashing him her butt, or something!

That being said, it would only be fair given that she was the one seeing him butt naked during diagnostics. Vivian scoffed and wrung her neckerchief before dabbing carefully at her wounded arm. The goal wasn’t to rip off the scabs but to clean them. She could have clean her bandages too like she did with her sleeve, but she preferred to keep them dry. She scrubbed the cloth under water to get it rid of a bit of blood she had just cleansed and wrung it — for a _thousandth_ time — before checking out that bruise again. The pain was still here, under the light press of her palm, from her shoulder to neck. Either bullets were getting more harrowing this far from Sweetwater, or she really was fragile!

Teeth clenched in pain as much as frustration, Vivian fastened her shirt up, leaving a few top buttons undone; she was going to wear her neckerchief damp, she didn’t really want her shirt to be wet too.

Behind her on the bank, the horses whined and another answered to them, not so far — Vivian flipped, a hand on the grip of her gun. A few yards from there, a group of riders came to a trot.

On the mound, Lawrence had stood up to follow their approach, holding his rifle with both hands, but the barrel low. It wasn’t so bad to have someone watching over her, after all… But Vivian didn’t wait for the riders to come closer to get out of the water, put her boots back on, and her vest without buttoning it. They were six, she counted — three men and two women, all dressed in clashing styles, plus one of the regular hosts from Sweetwater for bounty hunt narratives.

They slowed down when they got within earshot.

What appeased Vivian right away, as they got closer to the river and the mound, was that they clearly didn’t seem hostile; they were armed, but looked more like they were taking a stroll, still surprised by their environment, than people like that duster guy who left Las Mudas with his entire posse. And now that they were close enough, she could even tell some of them weren’t really feeling at ease; one of the three men kept shifting in his saddle to find his comfort and one of the two women — a crabby-faced tall blond — was chasing the flies surrounding their horses with irked waves of her hand.

"Good morning," the first rider greeted, touching the brim of his hat.

Vivian pushed hers down on her head and walked on a few last steps, enough to keep herself at a careful distance from their horses’ nose.

" _Mornin’_ ," she answered.

"Did the news of a train robbery reach you around here, ma’am?"

Vivian raised her eyebrows, amused, then shook her head.

"No…"

And no time for her to say more, not even to redirect them, because he continued:

"The outlaw who led this attack has been arrested, and he confessed to his judges that his plunder was hidden in his hideout's vicinity. We’re looking for this hideout to see that the… the stolen goods are returned."

Vivian couldn’t help but smile. It was a tad more classy to put things that way than to go at it like a bull saying that they were just on a _treasure hunt_ , she agreed.

"Ask whether it knows if another team came this way," suggested the blond woman to their spokesman. "And in which direction they went, it’ll be more than enough…"

Vivian hesitated for a second; _were they mistaking her for a host?_

But even if they did, the rider didn’t seem to share the lack of care and the rush of his friend, given the brief fed up look on his face.

"Damnit, Alice…" grumbled the other woman.

"Hey, d’you know if other people like us came by to get the loot of the train robbery?" Alice shouted to her, articulating excessively, as if Vivian couldn’t understand.

She wasn’t imagining it, _they were totally mistaking her for a host!_ Vivian decided to roll with it:

"No, ma’am…" she answered, without going the extra mile to imitate any accent. "Not that I know…"

Alice couldn’t have looked more disappointed.

"Do you live in the area?"

She would definitively be bathing in the river, if she did… Baffled, Vivian thought that, yes, she was actually living here — considering where her apartment was located, it was like the whole park was her backyard!

"As a matter of fact, _I do, ma’am._ "

"Great!" said their spokesman, cutting any more vehement questions off as he dismounted. "It’s already gonna help us…"

He gave his reins to the badly seated man and pulled a large piece of folded paper from his jacket, striding towards Vivian.

"Our… our guide isn’t from here. He’s only escorting us for our safety…"

"Ma’am," the guide said when she met his eyes.

She nodded as an answer before looking at the large map the spokesman had opened wide.

"But n-now…" the leader stammered, gaping at Vivian’s neck — and she guessed that her bruise was a strange piece of jewellery to wear. "We… need some… some help from someone who walk this territory every day!"

Vivian bit on her lower lip. That was such a shame to only stumble upon her, then… But, with a map, she could maybe do something; before coming here, Vivian only knew the park in this form. This was already much more familiar.

"We’re looking for a place called _Vulture High Rock_ ," he informed her as he peered down the map too. "In town, it’s said that Wilburne’s accomplices have marked the way to the hideout so that only he would find them but… we got clues."

On the bottom left corner of the page, Vivian could make out the watermark of their treasure hunt narrative — she struggled a little to read, so well hidden it was that one had to know where to look to find it:

  
**\- First to Dig -**  
_"The Finneus Wilburne Robbery"_  
****  


And the difficulty level was considered to be four stars. But there wasn’t any other infos she could have used to help them find their way.

"Who told you to go there?" she asked, at loss with that type of narrative.

"A dude at the saloon," answered another of the guys still on their horse.

On her gray steed, Alice wasn’t even hiding that her patience was wearing thin.

"And her guide, wouldn’t he know that?" she blurted, pointing out at Lawrence with her chin.

Seeing that her traveling companions weren’t all that upset by her clamor, Vivian understood they were more or less endorsing the question. She sucked her teeth with a frown; whether he knew or not, she would just wish not to draw too much attention on him, in case that bounty hunter who had been staring at him balefully for three good minutes would recognize him from a random wanted poster or something.

"He isn’t my guide, he’s my _ranch hand_ ," she corrected with the first thing that came to her mind.

That could be enough to shake off their gunslinger’s suspicions if he had any, and would be an excuse enough if Lawrence didn’t know where to find their rock. Reluctantly, she turned to him, still watchful on his mound; foot propped on a big stone, his grip firm on the Winchester and a sealed face under the brim of his hat, it was rather him who had all the calm but threatening poise of a landowning rancher.

" _¿Sabes dònde está la Roca Alta de… del… Vulture?_ "

She didn’t know how to say vulture. Fuck it. Also, her accent was shitty but Lawrence seemed to understand. And in a thought, Vivian thanked her few friends around the world to have taken the time to teach her the basics of their mother tongues through the years — just enough to survive, at least! These "treasure hunters", on the other hand, didn’t seem to speak any another language than theirs; Vivian was hoping that changing dialect would dissuade them to ask any more questions after that.

" _Más al este_ ," answered Lawrence, pointing vaguely to the east with a slow move of his barrel. " _Cerca de Ojal…_ "

Vivian nodded and turned back to the riders.

"He says it’s way east, near, _um_ , Ojal…"

She skimmed all the points on the map, and the roads, until she found one of them; Ojal Prison, subtitled _"Los Diablos"_. Alice let out an exaggerated sigh, whipping flies again before readjusting her hat gray with dust on her head.

"Let’s get it over with so we can go to the plantation next!"

Her request was nothing short of an order. Vivian had enough as well; she looked up to their guide and asked:

"You’ll know how to get them there?"

He nodded, leaning on his saddle horn.

"Yeah, sure thing, ma’am…"

She wasn’t really worried for them and the rest of their narrative; she honestly just wanted to _get rid of them_! And for that, she intended to get them back on their paper chase’s tracks as fast as possible. That way, it wouldn’t even come to their mind to ask them to follow. It could be where Vivian would draw the line of her politeness…

"Thanks," said their spokesman as he folded back the map. "You two have been a precious help to us."

He waved to Lawrence, both as a sign of respect and gratitude, to which he answered with a simple nod, without any other move. The rider held his hand out to Vivian who shook it, tightening her jaw as his clutch stirred her pain up, and he got back on his horse.

"Finally…" whined Alice, turning her horse around to go back to the road while the other woman was bidding her farewell to Lawrence and Vivian by tipping her hat.

" _Happy trails!_ " the uncomfortably seated man exclaimed.

Vivian had a sickish grin and simply acknowledged him, satisfied to see them leave — _finally_ , indeed. They went away on trot. Vivian flapped her damp neckerchief with irked moves, and she tied it back on around her neck despite it being freezing — this sordid breaking of her immersion was making her somewhat grumpy but she shook the feeling off with a shiver and rejoined with Lawrence near the horses.

"We’re gonna stop in a farm on the way," he stated, putting his rifle back in the saddle scabbard. "Horses need a bit more to eat, and so do we…"

His moves were quicker than usual, she guessed him anxious. He continued while taking his horse on a flat section of the road:

"They’re folks I know. They’ll welcome us…"

He got on the saddle and Vivian did as well, taking her horse alongside his.

"There’s something you’re not telling me."

Lawrence twitched and drew a short breath.

"The farther we’ll be the better," he muttered. "This… encounter rattles me, and I ain’t in no hurry to count new ones for today. That kind or another."

He shot a knowing look to Vivian who nodded.

"To stop somewhere quiet for a few hours could cover our tracks if Donald survived, and sent his guys after us."

This idea made Vivian tighten her jaw; she said nothing about it but shared his anxiety. As they spurred on their horses to a gallop, farther on the clear path through the garrigue, getting away kinda soothed her mood.


	9. Chapter 9

It was near half past eleven when they reached the farm where Lawrence wanted to stop; it was a modest wood and stone building adjoined with a barn and a few tiny pens in which sheeps, goats, chickens and pigs were frolicking. At the porch’s steps, a lazy mutt was lying and raised its head, flapping his tail in the dust as they got closer. A simple slightly dragging bark, which sounded more like a greeting than an actual warning, beckoned a flaxen-haired boy out of the barn.

"Hey, Tommy!" cheered Lawrence. "Is someone home?"

"Yeah, sure!"

The boy came to welcome them.

"Violet’s preparin’ lunch and… and mister Aubrey’s in the barn."

Lawrence got down of his horse and Vivian did as well. She felt all bashful again, in this place she didn’t know at all… Behind the boy, a tall and broad shouldered man, crammed into brown dungarees, appeared by the wide open barn doors; he froze when his eyes fell on Lawrence. Vivian’s went from one to the other — they didn’t seem to be all that welcome, suddenly…

"Can’t believe it!" he exclaimed, half of his facial expression hidden under his black bushy frown and mustache. "The hell are you doin' here!?"

Fear tightened Vivian’s throat; she was ready to get back on her horse and bounce the fuck off but, next to her, Lawrence was so calm that her puzzlement only grew stronger. In front of them, the kid had his eyebrows raised and stepped back when _mister Aubrey_ came straight at them.

"What a surprise!" he shouted again, his state of mind still unclear. _"Lawrence!"_

An exclamation shortly followed by such a sincere shout of laughter that Vivian felt all her blood starting to flow again; she drew a quick breath to release it immediately. The farmer opened his arms wide to pat Lawrence’s shoulders with both firm hands.

"So, only now you’re back to visit us, _cabrón_?!"

Lawrence nodded, looking a bit abashed even if he was smiling.

"I’ve been pretty busy," he answered to Aubrey.

"Damn sure, you have!"

The farmer slapped his shoulder again.

"And what brings you here?"

Aubrey turned a curious eye on Vivian who pursed her lips, short-winded so much she felt awkward.

"We need somewhere to stay, to… _let a few hours pass._ "

There was a clear insinuation Aubrey understood perfectly; his expression darkened and he nodded, smoothing his thick mustache.

"Mmh. Anything you need, you name it."

"Thank you, my friend," answered Lawrence with so much gratitude even Vivian felt moved.

Aubrey only acknowledged with a pacifying bow of his head before turning to Vivian.

"And who's with you?"

She opened her mouth to answer but Lawrence beat her to it:

"This is Ivy," he introduced her with a slight hesitation. "She’s a good friend…"

His words elicited a touched smile she couldn’t hold back and Aubrey patted her shoulder too, shaking her entirely.

"Welcome, Ivy!"

"Th-thanks…"

"Tommy will take care of your horses," declared Aubrey as if there was no arguing with it. "Come! Violet will be delighted!"

And he laughed once more. Lawrence and Vivian handed the reins to the boy who took their horses to the barn while they followed Aubrey in the house; they were first welcomed by a delicious smell of cooking. It made Vivian realize how hungry she was and it almost made her dizzy.

"Violet, look at who the wind carried all the way to us!"

" _Oh, goodness!_ "

The contrast between Violet and her husband was surprising; she had both light skin and hair, plump arms and cheeks, dimpled by a constant smile while Aubrey was way more tanned and the black of his hair and mustache stressed the austerity of his face which never really loosen even when he was smiling. Violet rubbed her hands in her gray apron, then came to hold Lawrence in her arms.

"I’m happy to see you too," he admitted, accepting her embrace.

"And he didn’t come alone," Aubrey said, gesturing towards Vivian, staying away near the door.

Violet stepped back to take a look behind Lawrence.

"Come in!" she invited Vivian who finally dared to step in. "Sit down! You’re gonna stay for lunch, right?!"

"Of course, they’re staying!" imposed Aubrey warmly. "They ain’t gonna get far if I keep their horses, _anyway_!"

Then again, Vivian understood some kind of implied reference, even more so when Lawrence approved. After what, he and Vivian took their hats off to put them on the hooks by the front door before sitting at the table.

*

There wasn’t much to wait before Violet’s cooking was ready to be served but Aubrey enticed them with a liqueur anyway. Vivian didn’t even remember the name of it and she hadn’t been able to drink more than a sip without eating something along with it. Hopefully, the food had been as hearty as it was tasty and both Vivian and Lawrence ate with such an appetite that Violet exclaimed they looked like they hadn’t eaten in days. Lawrence and Vivian shared a knowing look before he explained that they indeed hadn’t eaten anything this good since they left Las Mudas, but _"only because nothing could mesure up to her cooking"_.

 _What a smooth talker!_ Vivian had thought, without making any comment about it, comfortable in her silence, listening to what was being said and told around the table.

In the innuendos and the detours made to allude to certain common "memories" between Aubrey and Lawrence, Vivian understood that if the farmer hadn’t been a revolutionary himself, he had made a duty to help their cause, one way or another. And the farmboy likely didn’t know everything about it either. Why being so secretive once he had joined the table otherwise?

One thing was certain, the relations between hosts and the way their narratives adjusted together could turn out to be incredibly deep!

But despite this brief moment of wonder, Vivian shook the thought out of her mind with an unpleasant shiver which — hopefully — went unnoticed. Save for Tommy next to her maybe.

Tommy who, before the end of the meal, excused himself to return in the barn to prepare the cart. Aubrey then explained that the boy had been tasked with getting what they didn’t produce themselves from other farms, and he was answering Vivian’s questions about what they were growing here themselves when Lawrence stood up to go take care of their horses in the barn too. After a surprising display of affection for his wife, Aubrey had left to help Tommy load the cart.

Somewhat curious about the simplicity of the place, Vivian had offered her help to Violet but got gently rebuffed; so, she only asked for a bowl of water to take care of her arm on the porch’s steps.

Settled there, Vivian cleaned her wound, dappled with yellow and blue where she had hit the ground. She grumbled against herself, and against the pain, before dressing her wrist back with a clean side of the same bandage. And she got distracted from her nursing by Tommy and Lawrence’s exit, each carrying a crate filled with straw they loaded in the cart. The boy thanked him and, as an answer, Lawrence patted his shoulder. Then, Tommy hauled himself into the driver’s seat, clutching the long reins and, with his voice, he encouraged the placid horse to hobble along the pens; they slowly went away while Lawrence was getting back in the barn.

Vivian let out a slow sigh, round-shouldered, and rubbed her temples under her tousled hair escaped from her braid; it had been an excellent idea to stop a moment. In all honesty, and now that they were here, Vivian needed a breather — besides, eating an actual meal had done her some good as well!

Now, they only had a few miles left, which would be traveled within hours, before reaching Pariah near the late afternoon, or early evening, depending on which gait the terrain and their horses would impose to them. And, she was admitting it to herself with emotion but, Vivian was in no hurry to get there… and to the end of this little "trek”.

She rubbed the back of her neck then pat at her bruise under her kerchief with a nervous hand. As she was organizing it, _her trek_ , she would never have imagined it would end up being this brutal, that’s for sure! In fact, just as she had planned nothing as she left, she was also not expecting anything on that side either…

But this _"field observation"_ was going rather well so far; it confirmed that her script wasn’t disturbing any part of Lawrence’s code, that accessing his encrypted memories wasn’t as easy for him in character mode as it was in analysis, and that she’d only have to ask him whether he remembered her visit once they meet again in her lab…

Vivian rubbed her face with both hands before picking her hat up to put it back on her head as she stood up. She stretched her shoulders and adjusted her gunbelt on her hips; for all she knew, her gun wasn’t amongst the heaviest models but still, it started to get weighty by the end of the day. She couldn’t deny to have been glad to carry it yesterday, though…

The mutt trailed her all the way to the barn in which it didn’t enter when she stepped in. In the back, Aubrey was finishing to pile up some grain sacks while Lawrence was scrubbing his horse, whistling a tune — maybe even the same one she barely heard him humming the night before. His horse was following his movements around by shaking its ears and Vivian came near hers, petting its curious nose when it turned it towards her. Both horses had been generously fed and watered, unsaddled as well, and were enjoying this much-deserved stop too.

Vivian buried her face in the crook of her horse’s shoulder; there, she closed her eyes and breathed in its warm smell mixed with the leather’s lingering in its coat. Lawrence interrupted his tune but the silence didn’t last.

"There you go, boy," he grumbled in a short-winded voice, as if he had been crouching or ducking right before.

Vivian heard him slapped gently somewhere over the horse’s body and she smiled.

"How’s your arm?"

Surprised by his question, Vivian straighten up — she mustn’t have been that stealthy if he had heard her coming without even looking.

"It’s fine," she answered, searching for a brush in one of the crates placed in front of the stalls. "I did my bandage again eventually. More to keep things tidy than 'cause it needed to be."

"There’s a healer in Pariah who can treat you proper," he informed her, getting closer.

Vivian noticed the slightly pressing tone in his voice. She turned from the contents of the box to face him, almost rolling her eyes; he handed her the brush, which she accepted.

"I’m telling you, I don’t need a doctor," she argued.

Apart from the fact that she was feeling a bit down to be already this close to the end of her stay, Vivian also ought to admit that she was kind of a _bad patient_.

"It’s already healing, anyway."

She didn’t avert his gaze; the whole expression on his face was displaying his inner conflict through some subtle signs of discomfort, from the way his jaw tightened to the tension in his cheeks and his slight frown… It wasn’t very nice and Vivian scold herself for it, but she found it funny to make him sulk a bit.

"Don’t worry, Lawrence," she insisted, nonchalant. "I’m fine."

She knew all too well how much he wanted to reply, and she left him enough time to do so. But, Lawrence didn’t say anything and even ended up bobbing his head; it was obvious he didn’t agree but he was respecting her decision. By choice… or the binds of his programming.

This thought forced Vivian to lower her eyes and she stepped around him to go to her horse to brush it with vigorous strokes.

"W-what can… you tell me about Pariah?" she mumbled, brushing her shitty thoughts aside like the settling dust on her horse’s coat. "I’ve been told that… that it’s a godless and lawless town, where… where even debauchery’s on the streets…"

Lawrence drew a slow breath, thoughtful, while coming closer; he leaned back against the stall’s opening and crossed his arms.

"Who’s been tellin’ you about it?"

Vivian hesitated.

"S-some friends…"

She nibbled her lips; her answer made her feel so much like she was a teenager again, for whom some _jerks’_ opinion was enough of an argument from authority. But Lawrence didn’t judge her so harshly, nor was he judging at all, in fact.

"Well, if she’s as I recall, your friends told you the truth," he then said, taking the time to weight his words. "You’d better keep your saddlebags close to you… At least, only your horse’s gonna be stolen!"

Vivian laughed quietly.

"Criminals are the ones making the only law you’re gonna find there, he added. But they’re also the one who’d have gone through your pockets just before."

"Good thing I’m going with a bandit, then," she joked, shooting him a knowing look.

Lawrence smiled approvingly.

"Who’s calling my friend a bandit?!" exclaimed Aubrey’s voice.

Vivian jumped — it wasn’t such a great idea to gash each others on a misunderstanding! She went pale when the large stature of the farmer filled the stall’s opening, arms crossed and a mean look on his face. Throat tight, Vivian fell silent, even though Lawrence didn’t seem worried at all, composed, still leaning against the wooden frame.

"He ain’t just a bandit, he’s the most artful conman in three territories!"

Air came back to Vivian who then let it escape in a slow, discrete sigh.

"Still cheatin’ at cards?" Aubrey asked then, his voice shaking from a barely contained laugh without noticing the emotional rollercoaster he just put Vivian through.

Lawrence nodded thoughtfully.

"Not as much as you!"

His comeback elicited a long asthmatic laughter from Aubrey who gave Lawrence another friendly shove on the arm.

Playing poker wasn’t Vivian’s _strong suit_ … but she gladly agreed to participate when Aubrey offered them to play a hand. As expected, she wasn’t the best player around the table but she got all the time — and pleasure — to notice all their tells, guessing what kind of hands they might be holding through the observation and understanding of their expressions. That was a way as good as another to exploit job conditioning!  
They only played one game in three rounds, for the simple pleasure of playing together again but it had been enough for Vivian to beef up her vocabulary with plentiful new expletives, both in English and Spanish.

*

It was nearly two in the afternoon the last time Vivian had looked at her watch, some time after finishing their poker game and Aubrey’s offer to smoke with him before going back on the road.Despite all her willingness to share and experiment, Vivian had politely declined — if she had a few smokes in her lifetime, accepted sometimes to take a drag or two with Margaret, and had even learned to roll them with an ex, she wasn’t feeling ready to level up to the cigar!  
So, she left Aubrey and Lawrence talk and smoke together to go play with the dog which just happened to find a stick to chew on. And it had been tireless at fetching and bringing her that piece of wood back, no matter how far she threw it.

However, it was the one interrupting their game when the sound of thundering hooves caught its attention, and it started to bark at the road. The sudden dread felt like a gut punch; Vivian grabbed the handle of her gun, petrified at the idea that Pardue and his guys could bring a shootout in these peaceful parts. Under the porch, Aubrey and Lawrence had stood up and were both watching the arrival of their visitor, weapons in hand.

"What… what’s going on?!" Violet stammered as she joined them.

"Inside!" her husband gruffed, in a mix of anxiety and anger.

But their visitor was only Tommy, leading the cart at a quick pace. Aubrey put his rifle back against the porch’s railing to stride across the front yard and meet the cart. Vivian moved aside when the boy stopped the sweating horse with difficulty, in front of Aubrey and his thick wide open arms.

"Oh!" he uttered for the horse he caught by the cheek straps. "What’s goin’ on, Tommy!?"

Lawrence was reaching them when the farmboy shouted, jumping from the cart:

"Back there, a-at the Cramptons, the… there’s sheriff Reed! Got a whole posse and a cart, and they… they’re searchin’ the farms!"

That’s all it took Lawrence and Vivian to leap to the barn. In their hurry to harness their horses, Vivian had to do it twice before finally saddling her horse properly for the thing not to slide, and her with it.

"They… they were behind me!"

The boy was almost crying.

"They asked me questions about some… _two fugitives_ when I was there and… and I’m sure they didn’t like how I ran off but… but I wanted to warn you real fast! And… and…"

"Alright, boy!" Aubrey appeased him as Lawrence was the first taking his horse out of the stall and the barn. "You did good."

"I-I’m so sorry!" stuttered the boy, as if hearing nothing of it. "I’m sorry, mister Aubrey!"

The farmer ruffled his hair.

"Take care of the cart," he ordered. "Run!"

Vivian was getting outside of the barn too. Lawrence got onto his saddle, and she hauled herself on hers without even stopping her horse.

"Thanks again, my friend," said Lawrence to Aubrey who waved his arm to make them flee without loosing time on courtesy.

They turned their steeds around, nodded to Violet who had armed herself with the rifle, and spurred their horses at full gallop out of the farm. And for their horses just as for them, this sudden _takeoff_ caused some jitters; Vivian had that nagging feeling to have forgot something behind, her horse was swishing its tail and, at her side, Lawrence kept checking behind where a worrying cloud of yellowish dust was rising and getting bigger with each strides. Vivian didn’t know how far the Cramptons’ farm was… but she easily guessed it wasn’t that much.

Facing again the semblance of road they picked themselves across the plain, Lawrence urged his horse faster with his voice towards the clump of trees standing in their way; they had to take it slow and bend down at times, slaloming with the agility of despair between the trunks to get through this natural barrier, and not loose too much ground. This obstacle was also slowing their hunters down but they seemed pushed by the wind…

The thicket passed, the horses could spread their wings again only after several yards. Behind them, the thundering charge on their trail was getting louder, full of the riders’ shouts and whistles.

Vivian also glint behind them and a shiver made her tense in her saddle; from where they were — already too close to hope for a chance to shake them off — she didn’t see the cart anymore and could only count riders, a dozen perhaps, all dressed in long dustcoats floating on their sides. They looked like a flight of monstrous vultures in a thick dust cloud.

 _So that was how it felt like to be chased by Nazgûls?!_ Vivian thought, spooked, clutching her hands tighter on the saddle horn as she turned back to face the plain.

They could almost literally feel their breath on their necks! And they were still closing in. They had to go faster, if it was even possible… Vivian tensed in her saddle, palms sweaty.

_"AH!"_

Her shout spurred her horse to quicken its gait as good as the swing of her arm to give it the reins loose; it jumped forward, galloping faster with its nose stretched out and throbbing… Vivian heard the poor beast blow and snort without slowing down. If they continued like that on a few yards, maybe they could use the same strategy as against Pardue and his guys, by going on higher grounds… before exhausting their horses to death!

Lawrence’s overtook her — _with no rider._

Vivian stopped so brutally that her steed’s hindquarter dropped and slid in the dust, raising its head as if it was going to rear. She turned in her saddle, and made her horse follow in the same move, to see that several yards back, _the Nazgûls had just nabbed her Hobbit!_

And that, Vivian wasn’t okay with at all.

With another shout, she hastened her mount back on its steps; she’d rush headlong, give a few kicks in some unwise mugs and, if he could, Lawrence would climb behind her and they’d bounce the fuck out of here at full speed! Might work better than drawing her gun and risking a stray bullet…

Barely had she shaped these thoughts in her mind that she had reached the deputies already. One of them was trying to wear Lawrence’s combativeness out by throwing him to the ground, then another kicked him. Vivian hardly slowed down to also throw a kick to a shoulder, whip another’s face with her reins but, at the peak of her wrath, Vivian felt only too late the one grabbing her other leg. She tried to hold on to the saddle horn but another pair of hands helped her to fall heavily to the ground, next to Lawrence who was still clutching at his belly, wincing.

They got her forcibly on her feet but she fought back like crazy, waving her arms and legs, hurling her weight forwards but to no avail; she only got grappled more firmly, hold to be the powerless witness of her horse’s flight towards the south. Upon seeing this, she deadpanned for herself that her horse, at the very least, would reach Pariah…

Lawrence got pulled up and grappled as well. Held by her arms by one of the deputies toting a rifle, Vivian fought back yet again, even more so when another punched Lawrence in the stomach, making him bend with a grunt.

"Ove’ there!" shouted the worn-faced man under his nearly pristine black hat. "No need fo’ more…"

He gestured towards a sturdy lonely tree standing on the plain before the thicket and his men took Lawrence and Vivian there. One of the deputies, still in his saddle was already tying a rope to a branch from his horse’s back and he dismounted only to bring it under the knot, dangling like a sinister clock pendulum; the rider removed the reins from his horse and threw them across his shoulders. Vivian resisted a little when she too got pushed to the cart where a man was digging not so far away, in a softer patch of ground. An icy chill shook her.

Her hands hadn’t been tied, she couldn’t be more hurt by bullets than she had already been — _she had to do something._

With a shaking hand, she pawed towards her gun’s holster when one of the guys shed Lawrence of his gunbelt before shoving him towards the sheriff whose long coat was flapping against his legs in the warm wind, like dark wings fluttering with excitement.

"Ain’t you a little far from the Ranch Lands, sheriff?" taunted Lawrence as one of the deputies was tying his wrists together.

Vivian’s palm found the now familiar, maybe even comforting, curves of her gun handle.

"Never to uphold the law on lowlife like ya," spat Reed, as an answer.

With an imperious wave of his index finger, he commanded to his men to take him; the two deputies holding Lawrence hustled him towards the horse on which they had him sitting by force. Now that Lawrence wasn’t so close to the one Vivian thought to be the best target, she cocked the hammer as she drew the weapon.

" _Hey…_ " grumbled the one still holding her, on a furious tone.

She twisted her own arm in his hand to escape him and nearly stumbled when he let go of her; she immediately tried to beat the crap out of him but the butt of the rifle fell on the back of her head. Stopped dead in her tracks and the pain so sudden, Vivian flopped down on the ground with a short sigh, dropping her weapon. And, before she could even make a move, the guy picked her up by her arm to throw her back against the cartwheel. Vivian winced, tingling _from head to toes_ , and the ringing in her ears made her feel even more dizzy.

There was no doubt she had just received a real blow, nothing to do with a "stunt"! And in the fog clouding her and her thoughts, Vivian had one about how she could confirm to Margaret that, near Pariah, the _game_ was getting real fucking serious…

Raging against that useless thought and stunned as she was, Vivian gathered all her remaining strength to stay conscious anyway and looked for Lawrence in this dangerously rocking plain like a ship adrift; he had his back turned to her, sitting on that horse, and another rider in a long light brown duster was just putting the noose around his neck. She would have wanted to yell but only let out a short whimper, and clutched at the dust and pebbles under her palms, reeling as she was, even already on the ground. 

_Why was he letting them do this to him?_ she thought, jaws clenched. _How could he be this calm!?_

A fuzzy sense of anger took Vivian over and the blood pulsed hard in her temples, making her feel queasy. Sunlight flared on the ground, dazzling her, and the sudden surge of pain took her breath away.

"And that, in no less than three territories!" Reed uttered, somewhere, in the whirl of sounds Vivian could still grasp all around her. "T’was about time we got our hands on ya!"

She fumbled to grab her gun, its metal aggressively gleaming in the dust; she wouldn’t be shy to use it, this time. She’d aim to hit…

"Wouldn’t it taste better to be praised by the judges for that?" Lawrence argued, with such assertiveness that Vivian shuddered.

"No need," Reed snapped back. "Making the world free of your low-down kind is enough to any lawman!"

Vivian’s fingers reached the gun’s wooden butt and she pulled it to her hand. This success brought so much fire back in her that it felt like having recovered all her wits in mere seconds — she barely sat to raise and point the weapon at the sheriff, aiming at his chest. Her sight was still a bit blurry but she blinked, once or twice…

"Always prepared to deliver rushed justice, ain’t you?!" Lawrence openly snarked, as an answer.

"Enough!" Reed thundered.

It was time to shoot… Quick footsteps made Vivian turn and she only had a split second to figure out that one of the deputies was coming to disarm her. The idea to turn the gun on him didn’t reach her as fast as the feet did; he hit her arm the way he would have kicked a door open — _with the sole of his boot._ Vivian didn’t make a sound. Shock and pain made her drop the gun which hurtled away, and the dizziness made her fall flat on her side as her strength faded; still, she struggled to stay conscious. The guy was leaning over her and she raised her left arm to clock him in the face, but he dodged her fist effortlessly and caught her arm to tie it to the other with a length of rope in front of her.

"S-son of a bitch," she growled to his sweaty face — rage was keeping her fiercely awake, sharp. "I’m gonna wreck you…"

And her rage was growing, and growling. The deputy didn’t answer.

"Ah, yeah!" Reed shouted to Lawrence. "One more thing!"

The deputy tightened the knot and Vivian held a painful cry by biting on her lip as the rope did to her already wounded wrists.

"We’d be thankful if you could… _choke_ quickly," scorned the sheriff. "There’s only one noose… and after you, we’ll need it fo’ your accomplice!"

There were a few snickers, flattering Reed’s ego judging by his smug smile.

"She ain’t! S-she’s just a bitch I found along the way!"

"Don’t bother," the sheriff rebuffed him. "We know she was already with you yesterday…"

"Hear that?" the deputy threaten in a whisper to Vivian. "You’re next…"

He brutally pushed her, as if to stick her down to the ground, and left to take his position in the strange human arrowhead they were forming, all armed with their rifles as though they were about to shoot and hang Lawrence at the same time. Vivian tugged at her restraints; they weren’t that tight and, if she had a bit more time, she would have got out of them without a bleat. Despite the pain in her wrist. But she didn’t have the time — and Lawrence even less so. She had to save him, she had to stop this, she couldn’t just let them kill him in front of her, even more so with…

A dreadful thought imposed itself to Vivian in all its violence, making her shake and gasp for air; her voice command, _her script_ , was still active — all that was going to happen soon would stay written in his memory!

Vivian’s heart sank — she definitely ought to intervene!

She was too far for Lawrence to hear the closing command — not without her shouting it — and it was a long command! Deputy asshole would probably come slug her in the face before she could even get to the first half!

_How could she not have thought about that? Why didn’t she pick a shorter command!?_

The answer was tragically simple; the same way she had never envisioned that Lawrence could call up the command by himself, the same way she had never imagined she could need to stop the script in an emergency situation… Because her thought process had remained trapped between the glass walls of her lab!

And because none of this was a valid excuse, nor would hold the sheriff’s orders, Vivian had to find a way to stop them — with or without an activated script, there was no way they were killing him!

She strained against the ropes so hard it made her tear up.

The loops loosened a bit but the knot tightened even more. Except that now, Vivian was only hoping to reach her knife in its sheath. She got to twist her wrists enough to grab the handle under the open flap and pull — it slipped through her fingers and she bite a curse with a nervous glance towards the posse whose entire attention seemed now focused on the imminent execution.

"You’re willin’ to take a poor innocent girl’s life on no ground!?" Lawrence skewered. "What kind of…"

"No-one’s innocent around murderers like ya! Deputy, tell our man to dig a bit dippa’… Rats like those aren’t worth the time and effort to dig another!"

Vivian managed to get her knife back in her hands and clumsily strived the blade on the rope — the way the deputy had tied her, it would only take one loop cut…

"Any last word?"

"I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you," Lawrence slurred, coldly.

And the warmth hadn’t just left Lawrence’s voice; Vivian was feeling stiff and cold, her wrists and fingers numbed while the blade was etching the fibers. She could hear the sheriff’s voice through the pulse in her ears but didn’t make out his words, any of them. And as her sight started to blur, Vivian realized with indifference she was holding her breath, her eyes full of tears.

"Further to that…"

For a hot second, Vivian felt grateful to Lawrence for having piled up so many charges against himself… That was leaving her a little more time to act! But she didn’t really listen to what followed because, finally, the rope gave way and slid off her wrists on its own. Vivian stuck her knife back in her gunbelt and started to crawl to her revolver.

"The ruthless murder of Donald Pardue and his brother," she picked up again, on top of the drumming, filling her ears. "For those crimes…"

Neither the deputies, nor the sheriff, or the light brown duster guy on his horse were paying attention to her anymore; so, Vivian picked herself and the weapon up, with a hand that — she was the first surprised — _wasn’t shaking_.

"And may God have mercy on your soul."

Gunshot thundered in the air and its echo vibrated through the plain. One of the carriage horses neighed in surprise but none spooked away. As suddenly, the plain fell silent — then there was a groan, and the flat sound of a body collapsing on the ground. Vivian had shot the deputy who had tied her up; he was the closest, and the easiest to reach… Save for the moment of shooting, she didn’t give him a look, and those of Reed and his men were now on her, with a general bewildered expression.

" _Amen_ , assholes…" she growled, without lowering her gun.

Vivian even pointed it at the sheriff, even though the still standing deputies were aiming their rifles at her and the man in the brownish duster pulled his gun out. Somewhere, something inside of her got scared… But not of the threat of their weapons — _only of herself_. She was animated with a fury she didn’t know which felt strange but satisfying to let loose; she unclenched her jaws painfully to utter:

"Ain’t so much in the mood for niceties anymore, so you’re gonna mark my words, _shitbags_ …"

There was no answer — they all kept staring at her, rattled. Maybe her nerve was enough to hold them back but Vivian wasn’t expecting it to last. So, she rushed her demands through:

"Y’all had your fun, now you’re gonna screw!"

The air she was breathing in was as jarring as the one she breathed out, and as each step she made to get a little closer.

"Or I swear I’m gonna waste each of you, one by one…"

And if she had to be honest with herself, Vivian wasn’t kidding.

"Well," Reed uttered as if coming back online, all of a sudden — and he looked like he was holding on his wrath too. "If we had no charges against your accomplice, now we’ve got an overwhelming one!"

Movement on her right, somewhere around the deputy holding Lawrence’s horse, and she cocked back the hammer of her gun, still pointed at the sheriff as a silent threat.

"You’re under arrest for the cold-blooded murder of an officer of the Law!" he blared. "Hand yourself over quietly!"

"Ivy, just go away…" Lawrence chimed in, his voice trembling, almost begging. "Go to Pariah, ask for my friend Zeke, he’ll protect you there…"

"Shut it, Lawrence," she retorted, with no trace of her still boiling anger. "I’m trying to save you."

He didn’t add anything, nothing else than drawing a slow breath he held, stiff in his saddle. And luckily, the deputy who was holding his horse also stood still, even when Reed gestured to one of his men to intervene — Vivian pointed the barrel of her gun in his direction. Even though he was armed himself, with a rifle no less, he stopped.

"Deputies!" Reed barked. "Shoot the damn girl!"

"I’d love to see you try, you sad fucks!"

Vivian felt herself burn from the inside, and that fevered ache made her want to yell every word she uttered, while irked by her own thoughts as to fingernails on a blackboard; she was ready to take all their bullets, as long as she could untie Lawrence of that tree, safe and sound.

A part of her, deep inside, quivered when she only felt eagerness in front of the deputies aiming their rifles at her — and Vivian only grinned when she heard cocking sounds in a gust of wind.

"Sheriff…"

The voice was new to Vivian’s ears, and commanding.

"Hold your fire."

Reed — and Vivian as well — turned to the rider in the duster who steered his horse closer, without fear to be caught in the crossfire; he stopped next to the sheriff.

"That’s enough," he said again, not averting his gaze from Vivian’s. "Let her have her man…"

"But, marshal…"

"You’ll have many opportunities to get back on his trail another time," he stated, with the hint of an amused smile. "Today, _Fortune favors the bold_ …"

Reed hesitated again, his attention jumping from Vivian to the rider — this man looked so pleasantly surprised, satisfied even, that for some reason she couldn’t explain, this observation fuelled her fury. Vivian gritted her teeth and held his gaze — she even narrowed her eyes in displeasure when he told her:

"Thank you, miss. It was an interesting turn of events."

He tipped his hat to her then, as he straightened in his saddle, he ordered:

"Gather your men, sheriff, we’re leaving! The plain is vast… and there’s aplenty of gallows birds out there, right?"

Vivian and Reed stared at one another, ready to get at each other’s throats but, with a last disgusted sneer, he caved in.

"Go on, boys!" he roared, with a rageful wave of his hand.

Men lowered their rifles. Not Vivian… Arm extended, finger light on the trigger, she watched them pick up their dead and load him in the cart near which they recovered their horses.

"Hey, you there!" she yelled to the deputy still carrying Lawrence’s rig over his shoulder. "Drop the gunbelt…"

The deputy complied without a squeak, dropping the belt on the spot before going to help his colleagues. Even the one who was holding the horse on which they had sat Lawrence abandoned his post; Vivian accompanied his leave with the barrel of her weapon while stepping backwards to take place near the horse’s head to grip its bridle with a firm hand, and the guy didn’t flinch, guessing she wouldn’t shoot — _maybe not_. He trailed behind the sheriff who was barking orders to the gravedigger and the rider went past Vivian who still hadn’t lowered her weapon.

"Good day, miss," he wished her with a nod.

Vivian held his gaze in defiance; he was a guest, she got that, but right now, she couldn’t care less! She just wanted them all to beat it!

He didn’t take offense in her lack of reaction — he even smiled — and trotted up to the cart which didn’t take long to be ready to leave. Finally, and only then, Vivian lowered her gun. And it was weighting heavy in her hand, as much as her numb arm to the side of her shaking body. The cart and the horses galloped away in a cloud of dust. She pushed the hammer down slowly and sheathed the gun before turning to Lawrence; body tensed, an uncomfortable frown on his face and muttering a few silent words, he looked all torn up — _defeated_. Vivian clenched her teeth.

"Are you ok?" she asked, way calmer.

She was even feeling cold, now that the hatred had left with them.

"Yeah, yeah…"

Without further delay, she pulled her knife back, its tip stinging her through the fabric of her pants, and she put her hand on Lawrence’s on the saddle horn to keep them still while she’d free him. The piece of rope binding his wrists was as thick as the one deputy asshole had tied Vivian with and she managed to cut this one more easily now that she was free to move. And then, Lawrence was so too; he immediately tried to loosen the noose around his neck while Vivian was holding the horse by the bridle, putting her knife back in its sheath.

"The fuck?!" he grumbled, standing in the stirrups. "It… It’s stuck…"

Vivian frowned as Lawrence tried yet again to slide the knot along the rope.

"Want my knife?" she offered.

He sat back in the saddle, pondering the idea, then refused in a grumpy sigh.

"No. It’s just gonna take me hours and I’m likely to let it fall… You do it."

Vivian made a face; she wasn’t sure she could do any better but, since they had no choice, he didn’t need to insist. He dropped one stirrups, keeping it still with his heel and holding his arm out to help her getting on. After drawing a sharp breath, Vivian grabbed Lawrence’s arm, put her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself behind him, against the cantle; sitting there, she released her breath and a pang of anxiety along with it.

First, Vivian tried to loosen the rope as well but understood fast its taut angle between horse and branch was keeping it tightened. That, combined to the grime which made it sticky. How long had they been using that rope and where was it stored for it to be so gross?!

 _Fuck it_ , she thought to herself — she’d cut that thing. 

Vivian took the knife back and, her hands sweaty but her grip firm, she got down to work. If she hadn’t had much trouble to take care of the ropes around their wrists, cutting through the thickness of such a _rigging_ was something else entirely; four slashes of the blade on the grimmy fibers and she had barely done more than scratch it. Taking no heed of the strain in her right arm, Vivian pushed a bit more.

 _It looked so wicked easy in movies!_ she mused angrily. _And there, right now she would have preferred picking a bigger hunting knife instead of that shitty glorified pocket knife._ In front of her, Lawrence soothed the horse with his voice when it jittered under their weight and stepped on the side.

"Should’ve added… in my terms for… them to untie you before… leaving," Vivian grumbled between gritted teeth and each effort to chip that damn rope. "Sorry, Lawrence…"

"Don’t worry."

His drawl was now quivering uncomfortably. 

"I was eager to… to see those motherfuckers get the f-fuck away too…"

Vivian chuckled, breathless, but carried on with cutting the rope, tugging a little more on it to bend the branch. With a still trembling voice, Lawrence appeased the horse once more. This damn nag didn’t bat an eye under gunshots, and now, it couldn’t stand still! 

Vivan’s blade slipped on the rope she had nicked rather well so far and Lawrence let go of a fistful of horsehair to grab her knee with one firm hand. He must’ve felt her wobble. Vivian nibbled at her lip; should she fall, the horse wouldn’t fail to swerve big time… And Vivian didn’t want that. 

"Ivy, _sweetheart_ …" his voice rose, on an unsettled tone — _almost scared_ , she thought — while she groaned as she sawn the rope with her no doubt blunt knife by now.

"What?" she grumbled, jaws clenched and without boiling down her effort. 

"Not to sound ungrateful but…"

"It’s coming, I’m doing my best, Lawrence!"

His clutch tightened a bit more on her leg, as he hushed the horse again with a few smooth words and tender curses.

"No, it ain’t that, t-take your time," he continued for Vivian. "Don’t… just don’t squeeze your legs that much. Please?"

"W-what, why?" she asked surprised and with a brief glance at him. "Oh! Oh, sorry…"

It would be even less easy without that support but she’d do her best, yet again. Provided the horse was finally going to stay put, now that she wouldn’t spur it anymore, maybe she’d get it done!

"I… i’m almost… through…" she said, between each bite of the blade in the rope as there wasn’t much of it left.

Just enough to remain lethal, though… Vivian knew that much, anyway. She slashed through some more fibers, muttered a few curses of her own vintage all the while doing her best to stop kicking the horse with her heels — the rope was becoming slippery in her sweaty hand but she held strong, tugging a little onto it to lower the branch, hoping for it to break, even. But that fucking branch was holding strong as well!

Vivian was straight out loosing patience. She focused on Lawrence and his forced calm, his gibberish, and sliced some more at the rope… But the horse, too, got antsy; it stepped to the side and whipped its tail. Vivian felt its hindquarters lowering a bit, as if it was about to gallop or just to drop her weight off its ass.

"Easy, boy…" Lawrence insisted, grabbing the horsehair back with both hands. Easy…

Vivian clenched her fingers with all her strength on the rope, just above the cut and encouraged the blade with mouthed words. She _really_ rued herself for not getting a bigger knife…

The horse snorted and the world swayed dangerously.

 _"No, no!"_ Vivian cried out as Lawrence was pulling on the horse’s hair.

But that one didn’t appreciate the sudden brutality and the shouts — it jumped into gallop.

A snapping sound somewhere above their heads, and the fall got steeper… Then, the impact with the ground harder. Vivian and Lawrence grunted as one as they crashed in the dust, short-winded. For a hot second, everything seemed to freeze in silence.

When air came back to her, Vivian enjoyed it before letting it out with a painful laugh, palming her chest as if to make sure she hadn’t broken any ribs — everything felt fine.

"Oooh shit…" she whined anyway, stunned by relief, if not by the fall.

"Yeah. Same here…"

Vivian laughed again, out of breath, and Lawrence echoed her, rubbing his head and forehead. She was hurting from everywhere, literally from head to toe, and even laughing was painful but she felt like she couldn’t stop.

Calmed down of their fit of giggles, they stayed for a peaceful moment sprawled on their backs in the dust, contemplating the clouds drifting on the blue sky, behind the crooked branches of that old rotten tree, and yet still sturdy enough for it to resist and let this piece of severed rope dangling above them like a vicious scorn.

Lawrence rolled on the side, palms against the ground and Vivian straightened up too; the world was still spinning around her but she remained seated, brushing her hair off her temples and neck, sticky with sweat. 

A few meters away, the nag had started to graze on a tuft of yellowy grass and Vivian shocked herself when she felt the urge to throw it a rock — it was very childish but the idea alone relieved her and she let out a long breathless snicker. 

Next to her, Lawrence was finally getting rid of the noose, still having to pull on it to make the rope slide through the knot; he took it off with a grunt and threw it at his feet without a look before picking himself up with the push of one hand.

Vivian had recovered her knife she then sheathed and tried to stand up too; her legs were still shaking but she managed to stay upright. Enough to feel the ground warp under her feet. It was only Lawrence’s grip that kept her from falling to her knees.

"Did they hurt you?"

Vivian strengthened her stance and stood straight, patting Lawrence’s arm to appease him.

"I’m fine, I swear…" she said, slowly. "It’s just the fall…"

She shot him a playful glance.

"Well, you crashed on me!"

 _So little_ … but still. Looking sheepish, Lawrence scoffed anyway, without a word. He wiped the sweat from his cheeks and his forehead with one hand, all the way to his hair, before picking his gunbelt up. That’s a win in Vivian’s book! Now, he wouldn’t start insisting to send her to the doctor again although, based on the state of her wrist, she might have no choice… 

Lawrence buckled his rig back around his hips, watching the surroundings; his cool and confident poise was back, despite a wince of discomfort with each move of his left shoulder. Vivian brushed the dust off her vest with the palm of her hands, ignoring all her soreness — she was still feeling the rifle butt at the back of her head on top of everything — and her eyes lingered on the puddle of blood the removed dead body had left behind. Vivian felt her gut twist and almost made her retch. 

"I… I did this…" she sighed, unable to look away from the bloodied mud.

Lawrence’s grasp on her arm made her blink and turn to face him.

"No," he stated, surprisingly serious. "No, you didn’t."

Vivian held his gaze, a bit bashful.

"That ain’t your fault! They wanted to hang you for nothin’. What you did was only to fight 'em off!"

Her jaw tightened; they couldn’t have, they had restrictions… The only thing she felt she had fought was the crushing guilt his death would have caused her.

"And if that’s what it took for that marshal to finally stop 'em, well… fuck it!"

Vivian averted Lawrence’s eyes, bowing her head fully. It was dumb, she had to reason herself; that host would be fixed, and wouldn’t remember a thing — _contrary to Lawrence_. She nodded, without a word.

The squeeze of Lawrence’s hands on her arm lightened and she finally dared to look back at him. He had that cocky half-smile of his and even his voice had returned to a more casual tone when he told her:

"Now, help me catch that horse, will you?"

The deputy’s horse was gnawing the bushes a few yards away. As Vivian accepted, Lawrence added:

"I ain’t gettin’ back on it, that’s for sure! But… We’re gonna make good use of it, where I’m goin’…"

They walked with no haste, nor any particular caution towards the horse which raised its head and swished its tail as they approached. Lawrence talked to it but the animal snorted and strode away.

"Stay here, damn nag…"

Vivian chuckled and walked around Lawrence and his spread arms to try to face the horse; she clicked her tongue, hand extended. She had nothing to give but, nevermind, she’ll make up for this little scam with a piece of biscuit if it was letting itself get caught. Its fuzzy ears moved in her direction and she clicked her tongue again; the horse hesitated but stepped towards her to fully stretch its neck out. It wiggled its big grey lips trying to catch her fingers but Vivian moved back and the horse made another step forward, then another… So, she extended her hand and grasped the bridle as she stroked its forehead with her palm. The horse blew hard with its nostrils against the fabric of her vest, seeking the smell of whatever food she had on her and letting out a disappointed grumble.

"Sorry," she said to the horse. "We’ll see about that later, I think…"

Vivian patted its neck while Lawrence searched in its small saddlebags.

"Plenty of ammo," he started to list, clearly satisfied. "Even tobacco… Not bad!"

He went on the other side to check the second bag but found nothing as satisfying according to his almost bored expression when he came back beside Vivian.

"I don’t think our horses must’ve got too far," he told her, confident. "We’re gonna get 'em and tie that one to my saddle."

He patted the horse’s shoulder and it followed them without objecting, Vivian still holding it by the bridle.

A few strides farther, more or less where she had been thrown to the ground, Vivian recovered her hat she picked up and beat against her leg to get it rid of the dust before putting it back on her head; maybe she didn’t have to order a worn-looking one, given everything she had put it through in three days!

And onwards, they came across Lawrence’s; he bent to pick it up with a painful grunt. He dusted it against his leg too and whistled a short but piercing note, making Vivian jump. Somewhere, far in front of them, a horse’s neigh reached them, and Lawrence let out a resigned sigh.

"See?" he exclaimed softly. " _Pigheaded…_ "

Vivian snickered as she gave him a weak slap on the arm with the back of her hand.

"At least, he replies."

Lawrence approved, putting his hat back on.

They had to walk for a spell before finding their horses; Lawrence’s must have come to a stop in its frantic run somewhere there and, obviously, Vivian’s had caught up with it. She felt relieved — her tablet was still in her saddlebag!

Getting their horses back took them less curtsy and trickery than for the deputy’s. And Lawrence roped this one to his saddle horn.

"Wanna go back to tell Aubrey that… we’re fine?" Vivian suggested, gathering her reins.

For a second, Lawrence seemed to ponder her offer. They climbed on their saddles in the thoughtful silence he let dragging and that she respected.

"N-no," he finally declined when she got closer to him. "No need to bother 'em again…"

He steered his horse to a walk.

"The way I know Aubrey, he’ll end up searchin’ for our bodies. And when he’s gonna find the noose the way we left it, and an empty hole, he’ll know we’re fine."

Vivian cracked a somewhat sad smile when he looked at her, under the brim of his hat. She didn’t say anything to change his mind. They trotted in silence on several yards quickly covered when he added:

"I’d rather get across the border and for us to be in Pariah as fast as we can to avoid any other ambush like this one but… if you need to stop, for the night or…"

It was tempting! At least to extend her stay but Vivian had to be reasonable.

"No, don’t worry," she assured him, before he could give any following to his sentence. "We’ll stop once we’ll be there… It would be dumb to take more risks!"

Faced with his silent attention, she added:

"And I don’t need to stop anyway. I don’t know why you got that idea in your head!"

He shot her a stern glance under which she still felt a bit shitty.

"We’ll have to go easy on the horses, anyway," he said again, something creaky in his voice. "And we might only get there by nightfall…"

"And it isn’t so much of a good thing in Pariah?"

Lawrence shrugged.

"No, it’s just gonna be harder not to trip on some guy, dead drunk in the street."

Vivian’s hearty laugh surprised her, although it was a bit nervous, and she followed Lawrence who went ahead to get back on the road.


	10. Chapter 10

Hours went on faster than their horses. Lawrence and Vivian kept them all three at a decent gait, even slowing down without dismounting somewhere on the road in a small bordertown like Boneriver — neither of them being willing to risk the same kind of hassle. There, they let the horses take a few gulps of water at a trough and then, left before anyone spoke to them, to carry on their way to the South.

A light wind was blowing, whistling, in the bushes and the branches of the naked trees as they were getting closer to the border between the canyons casting sinister shadows on their steps. And their steps took them through a wild cemetery from which arose dinted notes of bells, knotted and hanged to the black crosses that spiked the soft slope leading to a large dust road on which they could still see some coming and going near the gate of Pariah.

Vivian slowed down a bit to dawdle and discover, _take in_ , this town as she had never seen it; circled with thick walls and coiled on itself like a stone snake, its head was standing in its center in the shape of a building she couldn’t really name. It was only twilight but night had already set in between the canyons in which the town was nested, dotted with clumps of trembling lights barely piercing the darkness.

Without stopping his horses, Lawrence glinted at her above his shoulder, no doubt curious about her reasons to stop.

"Havin’ second thoughts?" he asked, a bit loudly to cover the distance growing between them.

He struggled to stop the other horse that was tugging his own steed by the rope and it let Vivian enough time to catch up with him.

"It’s… It’s way bigger than I had imagined," she commented, a bit of fright in her voice.

"It will be night by the time we’ll get to the gate," Lawrence told her, with a catching coolness. "Everythin’ will look smaller in the dark…"

She turned to him, not answering, simply to watch him and measure whether she could trust him, or if he was just trying to numb her doubts with a few reassuring words; he only looked a bit tired, his face shaded by the journey and the brim of his hat, one arm resting on the saddle horn, and the other hand on top of it. Lawrence had a pleased smile for her and gestured to follow him as he straightened in his saddle.

"C’mon…"

They resumed their way at a gentle trot, progressing along with the night towards the gates of Pariah.

Ahead, the white canvas of an Union army regiment’s tents were catching the little surrounding light, natural or not, waving and flapping in the cool early night wind, on each side of a large road snaking all the way through a field up to the feet of the huge gate piercing the stone wall.

Some people were still going in and out of town — folks on foot, riders, a few steering their horses by the bridle — and soldiers in small groups, flocked together around wrought iron braziers, were chatting without paying more attention to them than a bored eye while others were pushing a big axle cannon next to a uncovered cart facing their camp on the opposite side of the road.

Lawrence and Vivian stayed on horseback, walking among the other travellers; they made headway in sight of the gate in silence and hadn’t said a word for a while now.

Vivian had used this time to observe around her, to listen, to what was the whole feel of this place so close and so far at the same time from the park’s nerve center. Her thoughts made her look up towards the great Mesa looming over the town and, for a split second, Vivian hated that mountain. 

_"Hey, you there!"_

With a shiver, she brutally came down to earth. A soldier was walking towards them, barring their path, gesturing them to stop with one hand.

"Stop right there a minute…"

Confirmation was even worse than suspicion.

"Entry check in Pariah…" Vivian gibed, a bit miffed. "Is there something I didn’t get?"

"No," Lawrence assured her, as little amused as she was. "I don’t know what’s goin’ on with this one…"

And the soldier was still walking towards them, without any intent to hurry.

"What happened t’your third pardner?" he asked, reaching their horses’ heads.

With a finger, he pointed at the chestnut hack Lawrence had tied to his saddle. Vivian felt her throat tighten and she forced herself to hold the gaze the soldier let linger on her, at least so she wouldn’t look too suspicious. When he turned to Lawrence, he insisted:

"So?"

"That, my friend, is a sad story," Lawrence started, his face as serious as his tone — and Vivian held her breath, skeptical. "We stopped by Lessergrove Hills one night to camp and… the next mornin’…"

He shook his head; his whole body language was one of a sorry man. Maybe a little too much, though… But Vivian lowered her head as well — to keep up with his story with her own behavior but also to avoid the soldier’s eyes.

"And the morning what?"

Lawrence spared his dramatic effect with a silence and by drawing a slow breath.

_"He was dead!"_

He uttered this, as if it was an obvious fact he refused to put words on, disgruntled.

"Dead of what?"

There, Vivian straightened up and glanced at Lawrence.

"Rattlesnake bit him while he was takin’ a piss," he dropped, with no more subtlety.

Vivian barely contained her laugher, lips pursed and teeth strongly clenched but her tiny squeak attracted the soldier’s attention to her. Immediately, she pretended to sniff and rub her eyes under the brim of her hat.

"Uh?"

All confidence lifted from the soldier’s trembling voice. His unrest added to Vivian’s glee but she didn’t make a sound this time.

"Yeah…" Lawrence drawled as an answer. "We buried him back there, we said a few words…"

He drew another slow breath without looking away from the soldier.

"It was touchin’," he then added before turning to Vivian, as if to seek her approval. "Right?"

She acknowledged and sniffled some more.

"Soul-stirring…"

 _"SARGE!"_ a commanding voice called, somewhere by the tents and the braziers.

The soldier turned and nodded vigorously towards a man who was gesturing him to come.

"Alright, alright, you can go…" he waved them off before stepping on the side as if he wanted to watch them for a few steps.

He then left to rejoin the one who was waiting for him. When they got far enough from the camp, Lawrence and Vivian exchanged a knowing look and snickered without saying anything else.

After getting through the large stone gate, the atmosphere quickly grew oppressing between the tall buildings, piled all the way up to the now inky sky; there was only a few candles and iron torches to light the way to a square at the center of which was standing a stone figure and the streets were filled with the blurry shapes of people jostling each others, drunk or simply brutish. Lawrence and Vivian dismounted to continue to move through the wide street, leading their steeds by the bridle — and the exercise soon turned out to be tricky for Lawrence and his two horses.

As they were reaching the square, Vivian looked around her, immersing herself her best in this fuddling ambiance in which she couldn’t tell hosts and guests apart with the same fluency anymore.

As Lawrence gave her to understand before leaving Las Mudas, she came to fear this would indeed not be a place for her, that this town wasn’t so remote and difficult to access for no reason and to feel _"out of place"_ , so to speak, from the very first steps in. And so, the experience would be unpleasant for everyone eventually.

Yet, even with her eyes wide open, somewhat mesmerized, she wasn’t awkward in the scenery all too much; no more than the barefoot guy in burlap toga and gunbelt who was talking to his horse, the two girls kissing and fondling each other in an archway or the cowboy who was simply grabbing a smoke, looking at the time on his pocket watch…

Vivian relaxed a little as they reached the square where, in front of a ragtag market stall sticked to a crooked house wall, Lawrence stopped. There, he spoke to a jaded woman who was slicing in a big vegetable like a withered pumpkin. If Vivian couldn’t hear a word of what he was asking, she could read in the seller’s poise that she was straight out pissed by the request; she didn’t say a word but rolled her eyes and, in a half-hearted move, stabbed the vegetable with her knife to let it there. She then left the stall, to disappear in an alleyway, a bit farther between two buildings.

Then, Lawrence resumed his walk up to a hitching post on the square to which he rolled the reins of his horse before doing the same with the rope of the other. There was still enough place for Vivian’s.

"Where d’you have to meet the one you came here for?" Lawrence asked, getting on the other side of the hitching post to face and talk to her.

Vivian clenched her teeth with a frown. She couldn’t even blame his curiosity there again, because it was a perfectly logical question, and maybe even full of the good will to help her; he was aware she didn’t know the town. And not even an hour before, she got a little spooked at its sheer immensity!

"I’ve been told about a… a fortune teller. It’s supposed to be the spice shop in front of it but…"

If Vivian’s intel was up to date, there was indeed a standard access through the shop. But she couldn’t use it with her horse, and she had to bring it back too. Unless it got stolen!

"But to be honest, I’m not even sure anyone would be there," she grumbled, in conclusion.

It was only half a lie, after all — she’d likely have to call the access she intended to use, with her tablet if not manually. In any case, it was out of town. She’d see about it tomorrow, when everything would be clearer — starting with her own mind.

"And now, I think it's gonna wait tomorrow, anyway," she confirmed out loud. "I really don't want to get lost or… or to trip and fall 'cause I have no idea where I’m stepping!"

Lawrence nodded, with an approving grin.

"Let’s get you a room, then."

"You know where I can find any?"

Raising her nose to the balcony just above their heads and from which lewd clamors were difficult to ignore, Vivian thought to herself that she wasn’t even sure she’d be bothered by the "neighbors"; she was so tired she was sure to sleep even if the Union Army decided to blast the town!

"Yeah…"

Lawrence’s terse answer surprised her and she lowered her eyes to him; he was glancing intently around him as if he was expecting a face in particular.

"There might be a place," he added, still watchful of the badly lit square. "I’ll take you there once I settled a few matters here…"

His eyes stopped on her.

"Waiting for someone?" she guessed safely.

"Yeah, but looks like this asshole’s gonna take his time!"

Despite the animosity of his words, there was none in his tone. And Lawrence’s slight smirk confirmed Vivian’s feelings.

"In the meantime, d’you mind doing somethin’ for me?"

Surprised but also suspicious, she slowly nodded.

"Yeah, what?"

He pointed her to a barbershop on the other side of the square, in a crawling up alleyway’s dark corner.

"There’s someone here who can take care of your wounds," he said. "You should go."

Vivian was expecting a lot of things but certainly not that!

"Are you serious!?" she uttered on a low but exasperated tone. "What the fuck, Lawrence!?"

"Please, Ivy…"

He put his hand flat on his vest’s buttons, as if to intensify the sincerity of his request. This gesture fazed Vivian and she caved — but only because she was sure he’d end up glitching if she didn’t.

"Fine!" she grumbled, still reluctant. "Can I trust you not to slope off with my horse?"

It was rather low as a comeback but she meant no harm; she was just getting testy to feel like she had no choice but to obey. In front of her, Lawrence chuckled and held her gaze, rubbing her horse’s forehead.

"What d’you think?" he replied, amused.

"Mmh…"

Then, Vivian searched for a few coins in her saddlebags and clumped along to the barbershop’s still open door. 

Despite how little light the candles and lamps were shining in the room, the barber was busy giving a very close shave to a man who shot her a rather mocking glance when she stepped in, and two old guys sitting on a bench turned to her in one move when she asked:

"Is there a doctor around here?"

Politeness be damned. Vivian wasn’t really into it, right now. And, without a word or even taking his hands off his meticulous task, the barber hinted her to the backroom with a move of his head. She grumbled a vague "thanks" and headed there to face a hallway at the end of which there was only one door that could very well be the toilets’ or a broom closet’s. 

Wincing, Vivian knocked on the wood. A couple long seconds passed before she raised her hand to knock again — she wasn’t going to spend the rest of her stay stuck here!

 _"Enter,"_ invited a voice on the other side.

Vivian didn’t wait to be told twice; she opened the door, recoiling a little to the stronger light in the room, glaring over a half-immersive decor peppered with a few perfectly modern devices and tools. 

There were a few places like these in the park’s towns, behind the front of which were hidden actual "emergency posts" held by real medics, often dressed in park clothing like the one Vivian now had in front of her — sitting at his desk which was currently his dinner table, he gestured her to sit in one chair in front of him.

"What brings you here?" he asked, wiping his mouth in a checkered napkin.

 _A stubborn friend_ , would have been Vivian’s first answer and she wrinkled her nose with a grin of discomfort. She sat on the chair while the doctor pushed his plate aside on his worn desk.

"I hurt myself on the road," she eluded.

He gauged her with a glance and, undoubtedly noticing that she didn’t look hurt, he stood up and invited her to follow him towards the white clothed wooden screen.

"Show me that."

Vivian sat on the examination couch that had nothing modern to it in appearance. She unbuttoned her sleeve and struggled to untie the dirty shredded bandage while the doctor was washing his hands. But to no avail, the fibers were glued in the wound. And that wound looked like it had suffered even more under the strain of the ropes…

"Yes, indeed!" commented the doctor as he turned to her. "I’ll have to fill a form…"

It was kinda what Vivian wanted to avoid. The doctor returned to his desk and came back with a tablet he unfolded; it turned on and, immediately, he tapped on an interface Vivian wasn’t very familiar with. At least, she had the time to glimpse at her torturer’s name — _Petersen M.D._  
"Is it your first visit in the park?"

"I work here," she revealed, grumpy.

"Ah!" cheered Petersen, obviously pleased. "It’s gonna make the paperwork easier…"

He tapped on the tablet and, when he reached the search interface, she didn’t even wait for his question.

" _Tech-ID MS358825_ ," she delivered on a flat tone.

Without a word, he entered her number and immediately found the medical part of her file. The drawback of living in one’s workplace — employees’ health was also the business of their employer.

"How did you get that?" he asked, propping his tablet down on a wooden book stand on the sideboard.

"I fell…"

"From a horse?"

She had also fallen from a horse — twice, at least — but Vivian wasn’t willing to talk about all that. There would only be the list of her wounds and the received treatments written in her file but even that, she would have rather done without. Facing her stubborn silence, Petersen looked back at her.

"Take off your vest and shirt, please, miss."

It didn’t _please_ her to do so but she complied anyway; the faster she’d be rid of all this, the sooner she could head out to spend what was left of her stay with Lawrence before all of this "adventure" only remains deep down in his encrypted archive…

"Did you get that by falling as well?"

He pointed at the bruise from the bullet’s impact she could only guess.

"There’s been a shootout," she answered readjusting the strap of her bra on her yellow-tinted shoulder.

Petersen didn’t say a thing and touched Vivian’s neck with the tips of his fingers. When she winced, he furthered his auscultation to the back of her head where he found the bump the deputy’s rifle had caused. Vivian bore the rest of the examination absent-mindedly; Petersen tested her for a concussion, made sure she didn’t have any broken rib and finally focused on her right wrist he bathed and treated before declaring:

"I’m going to close the flesh on your wrist and you can…"

These words pulled Vivian out of her haze.

"What?!"

Petersen turned to her, electrocauter in hand.

"If I don’t, healing will be slower and will definitely leave a mark, he added, as an unanswerable argument."

And for a lasting second, Vivian thought she very well hoped she’d keep a mark! He wouldn’t remove that from her, _he wouldn’t erase anything!_ But Petersen was already trying to grab her arm, so she evaded him by jumping off the bed. Her palm found the butt of her gun and she drew it from her belt, almost without thinking.

 _"Don’t you fuckin’ dare!"_ she growled, furious.

Petersen paled and raised his hands as if to surrender.

"Miss, calm down," he tried to reason her. "I just mean to treat you. You’ll keep a…"

"I don’t care. Just give me a new bandage and be done with it!"

Petersen put his tool down and turned his back to her to search through the cupboard. Vivian took advantage of the dropping tension to put her shirt and vest back on, although without releasing her gun — if Petersen had the idea to turn around and tase her, she’d rather be ready to make him taste _his own medicine!_  
But when he turned around, it was only to give her a paper bag larger than the one she had in her kit. She grabbed the thing and stuffed it in her pocket before heading to the door.

"I’ll have to report you refused treatment, miss," he warned her as she grabbed the handle. "If your carelessness causes you any more harm, it’s your right, but I’ll have to file a report!"

Vivian heard no fear, nor anxiety in his voice; he was only calm and exposing her the procedure he’d hurry himself to follow for the good of all, and no doubt his own first. Yet, the guy likely had seen his fair share of bullshit around here in the park, and Vivian sheathed her gun.

"Do what you want, and let me do the same."

Petersen sighed, miffed, and Vivian left his office, almost slamming the door. She had a thought for the barber, hoping she hadn’t startled him with a razor on anyone’s throat…

Teeth clenched, Vivian let out a slow sigh and began buttoning her shirt up, tucking it in her pants before taking care of her vest and heading on her way out of the building. The barber was washing his tools and only glint at her as she barged through his shop. As soon as she had set a foot outside, Vivian drew a long breath, relieved.

The air was carrying a somewhat rancid whiff she enjoyed anyway, delighted to chase the smell of disinfectants from her nose. Vivian took a second to calm down while she tied her kerchief back around her neck, eyes closed to focus on the background noises of Pariah, preventing her from obsessing over those rumbling in her thoughts — she just more or less pulled off a heist in a doctor’s office, she was realizing that.

Vivian stepped forward to return to the square and it felt as good as immersing herself into a hot bath; she felt better now that she was moving away from the barbershop. Dodging a group of lively people and refusing the advances of a scantily clad woman, Vivian reached her horse, scratching its ears as she tried to make sense of the conversation Lawrence was having with three people gathered in front of him.

"That’s what Ike said to Tingle," blurted one of them, pointing at another guy near him — but Vivian couldn’t tell whether it was _Ike_ , or _Tingle_. "But, _hey_ , you know him! It ended with two shots in the guts, alright!"

The two other guys snickered and Vivian couldn’t see Lawrence’s reaction as he had his back turned to her. She only saw him lower his head, arms crossed, leaning against the hitching post’s wood bar.

"Yeah, two rounds wasted, I’d say!" Ike-or-Tingle snarked.

Her horse lowered its’s head to dunk its nose in the dirty trough and, immediately, the eyes of Lawrence’s three friends turned to her.

"Hey!" greeted the one who still hadn’t spoken ever since she arrived. " _Hello, there!_ "

He uncrossed his arms and walked to Vivian, wiping his palms on his vest open on a largely unbuttoned shirt before extending her a hand.

"I’m Zeke," he introduced himself. " _Zeke Burch._ "

Tall and thin, his features so bony they looked sharp, this guy didn’t seem really aggressive, except in his friendliness…

"Ivy…" she simply answered as she shook his hand, a bit uncomfortable with his excessively warm welcome — apparently, Lawrence had told them about her during her absence.

Lawrence who was looking at her without moving from the hitching post, or uncrossing his arms.

"We just heard a few good stories ‘bout what happened on your way here," confirmed Zeke, without releasing her hand he was still shaking. "But I’m still wonderin’, if our good ol’ Lawrence ain’t exaggeratin’ like he usually does!"

"Couldn’t say…" she slurred as an answer.

But Zeke wasn’t actually expecting any; Vivian had understood that he was only playfully trying to bug Lawrence. He pursued right away, leaning towards her a little as if about to kiss her hand:

"Should you need anythin’ here in Pariah, I’ll be happy to oblige!"

Tonight, Vivian only needed stables and a room. But she preferred to rely on Lawrence, at the moment. She freed her hand from Zeke’s but didn’t get the time to thank him for his attentiveness as Lawrence straightened up, saying:

"We’re gonna go, now."

Then, he added for one of the two others, patting on the knots of leather reins and rope tied around the hitching post’s bar:

"I’m leavin’ you these, for now… Ike, can you tell Rafe I’ll be joinin’ you down the station before y’all go’?"

"Sure, my friend!"

Vivian untied her horse while Lawrence was talking with his friends.

"Thanks, Zeke."

"You bet!"

They left and Lawrence opened the way to Vivian who continued to follow him through Pariah’s raucous twists and turns, farther away from the square.


	11. Chapter 11

The inn where Lawrence brought Vivian had nothing fanciful to it: a little higher in the town, stuck between other tall crooked buildings, its reception and dining room were on the first floor behind double-wing old wood door with iron clasps, and filthy windows. Outside, a sturdy stairs winded against the walls to reach the walkway giving access to the rooms. And Vivian’s room was as austere as the front, save for the colors on the bare stucco walls and the tall black iron candelabras on which chubby candles had melted, covering them with a waxy crust all the way to the ground. There was at least an old brocade curtain full of holes swaying at the only window next to the door she had left open but even that detail didn’t count as decoration — to Vivian it was all _perfect_.

Sitting on the bed, she was finishing to munch on one of her biscuits, wrapping her wrist in the bandage she had "stolen" from doctor Petersen. While she was renting her room from the granny behind the bar serving as reception, Lawrence went to put her horse in the stable a bit farther in the same street. He had been gone for more than half an hour now, according to her watch left open on her saddlebags and, to be honest, she was starting to worry a bit.

_What was going to come back to bite them? Which trigger-happy guy also had a grudge against Lawrence, here?_

Vivian let her arms fall on her lap with a sigh that withered into a creaking moan, eyes closed; he didn’t have the most peaceful narrative, she knew that all too well but to be caught in its wake was entirely something else than reading the details in a file!

A soft knock against the door made her look up — Lawrence was standing in the frame against which he leaned, without really stepping inside the room. A bottle in his hand.

"Your horse is settled," he said. "You’ll just have to give your name to the hostler when you want it back…"

"Thanks."

He nodded, without a word.

"What’s that?" she then asked, gesturing with her chin towards the bottle.

" _Celebration!_ "

Lawrence raised the bottle as if to invite her to take it. Vivian laughed, turning her attention back to the bandage she finished tying.

"Wasn’t I supposed to be the one offering you a drink as payment?" she cracked, playful.

"We’re beyond that, now."

Vivian smiled to him, moved.

"Come," he then invited her, straightening up. "There’s somethin’ I’m sure you’re gonna like."

Curious and impatient, Vivian pocketed her watch and followed him out of her room, locking the door. Lawrence went ahead to the end of the walkway where, on the left, narrow steps etched in the stone wall of the last room were giving access to the rooftop, bordered with a thick stone and wood trim.

The first thing Vivian discovered was the rest of the town below — the inn wasn’t in the highest part and yet, the sloping of rooftops and streets was somewhat vertiginous, reaching the walls cradling the whole town and its excesses.

And, beyond the walls, the valley could be perceived under what little moonlight touched the river splitting the canyon. Its ashen glimmer cast an eerie hue over the plain, as if with nightfall, all the landscape had faded to black and white.

Vivian gazed upon the town around them, almost to comfort herself with the warm colors of the flames and the wallpaint behind her. The chimneys were sputtering plumes of smoke yellowed by the torches’ light in the streets, all snaking up to the heights, crushed by the Mesa’s threatening shape. Vivian turned her back to it with pleasure and focused back on the valley.

"It’s a bit better in daytime," Lawrence commented, removing his hat and sitting on the floor against one of the roof’s edges facing the valley. "If you got time, tomorrow…"

He left his sentence hanging and Vivian turned to face him.

"It’s awesome," she admitted, impressed.

And impressed, she was also by his knowledge of the place, _this place_ , while he didn’t look like he was following any particular narrative now, and by the spontaneity with which he had brought her here.

Maybe it was a simple improvisation response triggered by the fact that he must have noticed — and took in — how much time she spend gawking at the scenery all around her… A response that had certainly picked in his rather special knowledge of the town, still unchanged or only partly modified since his last role.

As for what had allowed him to connect the two, Vivian wasn’t quite sure right now but she was spellbound, borderline frightened, by the finesse of this detail. For a moment, she eyed Lawrence with as much wonder as for the landscape. It was only when he looked up to her that she came to sit beside him. He handed her the already uncorked bottle of which he was leaving her the honour of the first swig. Vivian accepted and glanced at the dirty label. She couldn’t decipher anything, even with the torches’ plain light reaching them from around, all the way to the roof. The bottle was made of a dark glass in a strange shape, like those sitting on pirate treasures in movies, and despite its apparent age, the neck was covered with a freshly cut wax still crackling under her thumb as she brushed most of it away. When she glinted at Lawrence, he encouraged her to drink with an affirmative nod, eyebrows raised. So, she lifted the bottle and Lawrence watched her intently, as she barely tasted the wine; it was a red wine of a sweet kind with a strong body and a fruity aftertaste, a bit like the flavor of a Porto. In fact, it was even not bad at all. Lawrence chuckled, teasingly, when she lowered the neck ever so slightly.

 _Peer pressure much?_ she thought, amused.

But Vivian was handling wine a bit better than whiskey so she dared a longer sip. When she lowered it again, Lawrence was still snickering; so, she handed it to him with a challenging look. But he only took a sip himself, not even more generous than hers. Sitting beside one another, they kept silent for a moment, exchanging nothing but the bottle. Somewhere down below, wolf howls rose from human mouths, followed by a burst of laughter and Vivian chortled, relaxed; she didn’t imagine she could have loved Pariah more than she had been touched by Sweetwater’s peaceful flair but, now, there was nowhere she’d rather be. From the corner of her eye, she peered at Lawrence. He looked thoughtful himself and Vivian hoped to capture another of those behavior samples, that _perfection_ , she had caught the night before by the fire. But since he wasn’t doing anything, she turned away to avoid risking to make him uneasy.

"Aren’t your friends going to be waiting for you?" she asked, as he handed her the bottle after a swig.

"No one’s gonna leave until dawn. There’s no rush yet…"

Vivian took a long sip she let linger on her tongue, and tried for a second time to decipher the dull label. After several days of almost constant tension, she was finally unwinding a little for real, as she was only doing so in her apartment, back on _the other side of the mirror_.

Vivian clenched her teeth and raised her head to stare at what was surrounding her — the valley, the river, the night sky, Pariah, and Lawrence. She didn’t hold back a weak frustrated grumble.

"Sometimes, I’d like to have no obligations," she confided in him, a bit dejected — that wasn’t the right time to be a nasty drunk! "If I could, I… I wouldn’t head back home now and, I’d go with you to join the revolution! Why not!"

Vivian scoffed at her own nonsense and took another sip.

 _Shit…_ The narratives weren’t the only thing to get rough in that corner of the park; the plonk was also pretty stiff!

She heard herself talk with no way to shut up. The only thing that slowed her down a little was the thought of risking to talk too openly about things he couldn’t know, or just shouldn’t. He wasn’t supposed to notice them, but Vivian was starting to have doubts about that… And she darted a worried look at Lawrence; he was smiling as if flattered, and he only held his hand out to ask for the bottle — it was probably better to take that out of her hands, indeed! He took a sip in his turn.

"You could come!" he then cheered, with a nod. "I’d like that. Also, looks like there’s somethin’ you don’t like where you’re from, somethin’ you’re hiddin’ from…"

Vivian turned to him, more than surprised. _Emotional acuity? Bulk aperception?_ He had good stats in both those skills…

"And, trust me, if someone can understand that, it’s me!" he added with a knowing look, breaking her train of thoughts.

Vivian cracked a lenient smile and he continued, serious:

"But… as much as such good will would always be welcome in our ranks, I ain’t sure all that is somethin’ for you…"

"You sure about that?" she replied, a bit testy. "I killed a guy, no later than today…"

She’d rather not think too much about it… But still, Lawrence confirmed with a nod, handing back the bottle she was reaching for.

"Yeah," he insisted, putting his arms on his knees to continue looking at her. "And the bastard had it comin’…"

Vivian muttered while Lawrence continued:

"What you did, back there…"

He sounded like he was still choosing his words as he spoke.

"I mean… you were fierce, and brave!"

She had a quiet laugh even under his all approving look.

"And I like that," he confided again, his voice softer, almost shy. "A woman with temper…"

Vivian held her move to take the bottle’s neck to her lips.

"Woah!" she laughed, although with no scorn. "Are you flirting with me, Lawrence!?"

Surprise on his face first made him look like he was about to deny. Then, all his features relaxed to return to something more amused, almost cheeky and defiant.

"What if I am?"

Vivian snorted. However, she had a hint of a smile and bumped him with her shoulder.

"I’d say it’s cute…" she admitted.

And she also admitted to herself that she was blushing. Lawrence smiled to her when she handed him the bottle without having drunk, in the end.

"But still…" he continued, on the same calm voice. "The war, the battles… It’d destroy what you already have. And that’d be a damn shame!"

Vivian accepted his opinion, humble. She looked down to the roof floor.

"One thing’s for sure," added Lawrence, on a lighter tone. "I’ll remember you!"

Even though she was touched, Vivian had a short, bitter snort.

"No, you won’t…" she grumbled with her head low, more for herself than for him, scraping the floor with the heel of her boot.

He finished his gulp of wine in a disapproving sound.

"Sure," he insisted once he lowered the bottle. "Ain’t no way to forget someone who gave you so much to remember…"

Vivian frowned and her smile trembled; it sounded like there was a hint in this comment, like an admission, that he had remembered her, or at least accepted his feeling that he _had_ to… She was no doubt imagining it but, for a moment, she wanted to believe it — _believe_ he had recognized her and that he was happy about it.

Should she return to the park, everything would be as if they had never met… That thought came banging at her head again and her heart clenched, so much she felt queasy. And wine had nothing to do with it. Vivian blamed herself for these feelings and she averted her gaze with a short wince — tears were filling her eyes but she brushed them away with the back of her hand, and cleared her throat.

"Where are you heading, next?" she asked, a firm grip over the emotion in her voice.

Lawrence drew a slow breath.

"Farther South," he alluded vaguely — and Vivian guessed that what he’d do after tonight was still vague, even for him. "Rafe and Ike are leavin’ with a bunch of their guys in the mornin’ to meet with a group of revolutionaries. Their camp is close to Ghost Nation territory, far south… Guess I’m gonna be there for some time."

He took another swig of wine and Vivian grumbled, shaking her head.

"Why are you telling me that if you’re wanted!?"

Her feigned indignation amused Lawrence who laughed heartily.

"Are you plannin’ to hunt me down?"

"I might!" she gibed, her chin raised. "Is the bounty any good?"

Lawrence snickered then shook his head, letting her have the wine — what remained of it.

"Good enough to bring quite a few crooked assholes to track me down here and there, you may have noticed."

Vivian disapproved with an irked mumble.

"Yeah well, I drink to that," she uttered with a slightly louder voice as she raised the bottle — and took a short swig. "To the failed hunt of all those motherfuckers! "

Vivian heard Lawrence scoff and she handed him the bottle.

"I drink to that, too…"

When he put the bottle on the ground, it sounded hollow. Vivian couldn’t stop smiling now, moved by a pleasant sense of peaceful euphoria — she felt warm despite the fresh air rushing into the streets of Pariah whose passion hadn’t died down. Only between Lawrence and Vivian a serene silence settled. And it lasted the few seconds of a roaring singsong of people passing by in the street, down the inn. After what, Lawrence asked:

"What about you? What are you gonna do once you’re done with your business here?"

Vivian shrugged.

"Getting back on the road, back to work…"

The lack of enthusiasm in her voice made her shiver.

"What’s your trade?"

Without facing Lawrence, Vivian smiled — his curiosity, once again… That being said, how could she explain to him what she was doing, without giving away that her work, _it was him_? Among others.

"It’s… It’s a bit complicated…"

She took a slow breath; she’d have to "bend the truth", once again.

"Simply put, I… I’m a kind of engineer," she said, with no real confidence. "I have to make sure my… my boss’ _machines_ keep going."

It was pissing her off to call him a "machine" while neither him, nor any other had anything mechanical left since at least twenty years.

"Even if it means starting over, and repurpose them entirely sometimes."

And, _that work_ , it was possible she couldn’t do it the same way anymore… She had always liked working with the hosts, way less the use that was made of them. Now even less so.

Vivian dared to look up at Lawrence who was listening to her silently. She wasn’t expecting him to understand but the kindness in his eyes made her feel better than any good word.

"I knew already you were a sharp one!" he commented anyway.

Vivian scoffed — _touched_ , once again. She nibbled at her lip and tried not to start biting her nails again.

"Thank you for taking me all the way here," she told him, fending off her own emotions. "And that, safe and sound…"

Lawrence ticked and she let him give voice to his thoughts.

"No, don’t thank me."

And his face and tone were stern. 

"I put you in danger… Also, I’m the one who should be thankful. Without you, I would be hangin’ on a tree right now, so…"

The sentence however was left hanging. Lawrence nodded to insist on his words, even unsaid, and Vivian once again felt humble, and mute.

"Anyway, I liked walking part of the way with you," he added. "Thank _you_ , Ivy."

It wouldn’t take much more for Vivian to cry! She felt the tears at the corner of her eyes and the needles in her throat, but this time, she didn’t have any wine left to push them down…

She had liked that journey too and she was gathering her courage to tell him so when the short whistle of an arriving train, somewhere, at the feet of the town’s walls resonated in the night air.

"Mmh," muttered Lawrence. "I’m gonna have to go."

Vivian clenched her teeth so hard she felt a pang in her cheekbones. She kept silent. Nose raised to the black sky, Lawrence added, still not standing up:

"Dawn is only in a few hours and the train ain’t likely to leave without us, but there’s gonna be a lot to take care of before leavin’…"

"Of course," Vivian uttered with difficulty. "I understand…"

She stood up at the same time he did, dusting the back of her pants with her palms; if she had tears in her eyes again, Vivian would blame it on the dust. Lawrence picked up his hat and the empty bottle as well, and asked her, straightening up:

"Do I take you back to your room, or you’d rather stay here?"

"I’ll come back tomorrow morning," she answered with a smirk. "Go on…"

And he went ahead in the narrow stairs all the way to the empty walkway. To Vivian, what mattered the most in all this little adventure, was that her script wasn’t causing any problem to Lawrence, even after being active for several days. The sudden thought that she still hadn’t disabled it came back to her with a cold sweat. The wine had really dulled her, tonight…

" _Lawrence, wait!_ "

She put a hand on his arm as he was already turning around to listen; they had barely reached the door of her room and she wasn’t expecting him to leave without shaking her hand anyway, but the rush made her act without thinking. Lawrence put the bottle on the edge of the small window by the door as she continued:

"There something else I have to tell you!"

His silent attention was all Vivian needed. Still, she wouldn’t just hammer him with her command; she had another idea — since he managed to enable it on his own, the safest thing to do was to give him the means to disable it too.

"What I’m gonna say doesn’t make much sense, I know, but… if someday, _any day_ , no matter the reason, you feel like you’re… you’re… _overwhelmed_ with memories, promise me to remember one sentence! Just a simple sentence to repeat…"

 _Simple_ wasn’t really the right word for it but, nevermind. Lawrence’s obvious surprise didn’t stop him from nodding.

"Sure, Ivy," he said, frowning in confusion and maybe also startled by her sudden turmoil. "What is it?"

Lawrence put his hands on her arms, as if to encourage her to calm down, and to speak. Vivian tighten her jaw again; as soon as she would have said those words, all that would happen next would disappear at his next loop. But at least, he had promised first.

" _They who dream by day are cognizant of many things which escape those who dream only by night_ ," she recited, lowering her voice so that no-one else would hear these words.

Nothing in Lawrence’s expression let Vivian know if her command had been disabled, and for a brief instant, Vivian feared it may not have worked. It was the first time she was using it in character mode, after all… She could only hope, now. And hope she hadn’t just done him more harm than good, either.

"If you must recall only one thing about me, it’s these words," she insisted, clutching at Lawrence’s vest with her fingers. "Please, _remember this…_ "

He looked humble too now, faced with her emotion. She saw him frown again briefly before he put a hand on her cheek; with his thumb, he wiped her tears. Vivian hadn’t even felt them. Lawrence nodded and murmured to her, with a softer voice:

"I will, don’t worry."

She had a smile more like a distressful wince, shut her eyes and enjoyed the caress of his palm on her cheek. If he wouldn’t remember that, she would for them both.

When she felt the warmth of his hand leaving her cheek, Vivian opened her eyes on him; Lawrence was taking his hat off and took her in his arms. Surprised, if it wasn’t baffled, Vivian shared his embrace with hesitating moves.

"I don’t know if we’ll see each other again someday," he admitted with calm. "But I’d like that."

Vivian squeezed him a little tighter.

"I’d like that too…"

Even if she was enjoying this hug, Vivian stepped back slowly, and Lawrence let her go.

"C’mon," she told him, patting his arm. "Don’t be late, all the more if you’re expected somewhere!"

"What _I_ expect is needing to pick some of 'em up, dead drunk, before we can do anythin’ at all," snarked Lawrence, putting his hat back on.

Vivian laughed and she felt a bit lighter. He got the bottle back from the window sill — _it could always come in handy_ , thought Vivian, even though she was a bit mystified — and she accompanied him to the stairs he walked down alone at a relaxed pace.  
Down the steps, he looked up to Vivian and tipped the brim of his hat; she waved at him, amused, then followed him with her eyes until he disappeared at one of the side streets’s angle. A sudden sense of loneliness overtook Vivian. It weighted so heavy on her that she leaned her elbows on the railing of the walkway, her head low and she let out a slow sigh — she was exhausted, and the wine was blurring everything a bit around her now that the adrenaline was going down after this little fright!  
Now, Lawrence went to go on with his narrative against the Confederado artillery, and she would only see him again on a stool, between two other hosts from her usual batch…

Vivian had an unpleasant shiver. She closed her eyes and raised her head to enjoy a gust of fresh air; it spun through the street, rustling in the reddish leaves of the trees in the street and brought the sounds of the town’s heights along. Vivian’s mind reeled a while, roved in dark corners of her thoughts, and she straightened up stiffly, clutching at the wood railing with both hands when the weight of all her questions left unanswered came crashing down on her. Her steps heavy, she dragged herself into her bedroom, locking it behind her while unbuttoning her vest to throw it on her saddlebags, kicked her boots off with relief before letting herself fall flat on her belly across the bed without even unbuckling her gunbelt. Her whole body now still stressed out the dizziness Vivian tried to fight off with a grumpy moan. She wouldn’t be moving anymore and will be sleeping like that, it would be perfect. Vivian had no more strength left to move, anyway, especially now that she could finally ignore a bit of all the strain in her body, from lack of confort to actual wounds.

Tomorrow, however, she’ll have a hard time to ignore how potent the " _Pariah cuvée_ " was…


	12. Chapter 12

Hot water was raining on the tiles of the shower stall, and on Vivian’s painful shoulders. She massaged her neck, bending her head forward a little, even at the risk of letting the near-scalding bubbling hit directly on her bruises and bumps. She’d grit her teeth… She had learned how to do that even harder, these past few days.

For now, she was enjoying her shower as a consolation prize for being back to her apartments, in the Mesa. She had been longing for it, that shower, and it had also been very pleasant to piss without crouching in the wild… but now that she was here, getting rid of all the dirt and dust, she had the strange feeling of loosing something.

Vivian palmed her bruise on her chest — bruise she had seen for the first time in front of her bathroom mirror. She had gone pale; it was very large and still extending in shades of blue, purple and yellow, all the way to the crook of her neck and shoulder, with spots and veins like some movie makeup for an alien poisoning!

Vivian had the silly thought that it was better for Lawrence not to have seen that or, he would definitely have glitched, this time!

She buried her face in her hands with a slow groan.

Still, she had been shot! And hit, and tied up, and… Her wrist would still need a few days to get better and she was hurting a bit from everywhere but Vivian didn’t _give a shit_. She had saved Lawrence from the rope, this time at least.

Now, if she was remembering all his narrative log properly, his loop would restart in a few days, if no guest had stepped in his narrative this side of the border. One of the most savage of the park — she knew that already, and Lawrence had reminded it to her.

And if Vivian got the Narrative department’s intents right, she knew all too well he wasn’t reaching that point himself every time…

This thought made her tighten her jaws and shiver under the still hot water. Vivian lowered the mixer tap and got out of the steamy stall to wrap herself in her bathrobe.

Back in her apartments’ main room, Vivian’s eyes lingered on these clothes she had been wearing for the past three days, dusty and worn out — back at the dressing room, she had been agreeably surprised to learn she could keep them! The benefits of spending some of her own money on what was in fact not just a guarantee…

She couldn’t keep the gun, or the belt, or even the watch but she had everything else.

Grabbing her personal tablet in a drawer on the way, Vivian let herself flop down on the bed, its sheets’ coziness almost surprising her and she sank her forehead in one pillow she grabbed. The weird sense that all her memories of this little trip were roaring and pounding at the back of her head was giving her the strong urge — _the need_ — to write down as much of it as possible. In fact, it seemed even a better idea to take notes about her script out of her observations, even if it could be seen as a form of confession. For now, she didn’t care…

Nobody was supposed to search through her personal stuff, anyway!

Vivian turned the device on and opened a new page to start writing from the morning, after waking up in Pariah. She was kinda hangovered and would have loved a cup of _látigo_ , this morning… but she only had freshened herself up with the water from her room’s pitcher before taking the time to get on the roof to discover the landscape by daylight; it wasn’t dawn — it was around nine — but it was still awesome.

Vivian had stayed there for over an hour, until she felt less numb, and then went to wander a little in the heart of Pariah, venturing higher up to actually look for the fortune teller but, alone with her thoughts, she had ended up leaving eventually.

After finishing her biscuits, she had returned to her horse and the road, with no rush, until she found the refurbishing outpost she had planned to use.

Other techs were there, in the late morning, organizing a stock before its dispatch. She had talked with them for a bit — it had made for a slightly smoother return than closing the doors of the lift on her and returning to the park’s infinite metal guts, abandoning her horse at Livestock Management, and blending herself in the crowd of her colleagues.

Vivian sighed as the tablet slid from her hands, flat on the blankets. She took a second to think then put her fingers back on the touchscreen; she’d continue to go back in time, bit by bit, to lose none of what was the clearest, and take the time to think about the previous days, to forget as little as possible.

Memories were precious — Vivian was agreeing on that, now…

*

Lunch break, the morning after, had been a tad more tedious than Vivian would have anticipated but, the thing quickly tackled, she had returned to the Behavior department to resume her analysis and calibrations routine. Returning backstage had been a bit unsettling but after a few hours, Vivian had just ended up ignoring her tension to focus her best, even when Margaret came to chat in her glass cubicle while she was losing hope over the calibration of a slightly derailed host from her batch to smoke his cigarette. And Margaret wanted to know, _to know everything_ , about what Vivian had done during her stay in the park — the sweet, the less sweet, where it all happened… and that, with all the innuendos Vivian knew her.

"Ask for my footage to your contact in the control room," she had replied, hunched over the lines of code on her tablet while _"Abe"_ was smoking with an error ratio of 5 centimeters.

And thinking about it, Vivian would have liked some footage herself! But she didn’t dare to admit it — _beg for it_ — to Margaret who snickered as she replied:

"I wouldn’t want to catch anything dirty! It’s better if you’re the one telling me."

"You wanna play _'Kiss and Tell'_ , now?" grumbled Vivian. "For real!?"

Margaret smirked in a way Vivian would have qualified as _childishly victorious_.

"Who was it?" she insisted, playful. "Not Hector, I guess, he was on schedule."

Vivian sighed and shook her head — not that she was answering to Margaret, she was simply astonished. She should never have participated to this conversation with her, and admitted that she also was sharing the general opinion… More or less.

"Also, I imagine you’re more about _'Family Friendly’_ stuff than ganging up with Escaton and his bunch. A bounty hunt with Teddy, maybe?"

"Help me, Abe," begged Vivian to the host who was raising his arm to take an imaginary drag. "Let me correct this so that we don’t have to listen to any of this anymore!"

Margaret snickered and patted Abe’s naked shoulder.

"Come on, Vivian! He wants to know as well!"

She pinched his smoke.

"No, Marge…" Vivian tried to stop her. "Ah, fuck it!"

Vivian wouldn’t get anywhere — not as long as Margaret would be here, anyway. She dropped her tablet aside on the wheeled desk and rubbed her neck, mumbling.

" _Homegirl_ , you look like you’re on your last leg," Margaret noticed, holding the cigarette with the tips of her fingers, elbow to her hip as if she was already smoking it.

But her concern sounded sincere, and that’s what surprised Vivian the most; she rubbed her face with both hands, whimpering a little. She was definitely exhausted… She had written until late in the night and still, she’d have to proofread herself to add other details she had recalled while moping over her breakfast, earlier. Vivian gave up, _she had no fight left_.

"I went to Pariah…"

Margaret’s eyes and mouth opened wide and she bent forward as if having sudden stomach cramps… but with an overjoyed expression on her face. The result would have almost been comical if Vivian wasn’t feeling so grumpy.

"No fuckin’ way!?" she cackled.

She burst into laughter. Vivian turned away to stare at Abe, impervious to the situation and continuing his smoking gesture, even without a smoke. She pressed her temples as Margaret was calming down.

"But, like… _no joke?!_ "

She guffawed again, apparently waiting a confirmation.

"Why would I lie?" Vivian retorted, pawing at her bandage under the sleeve of her jacket.

"You gotta tell me all about it! I’m leaving you no choice, here!"

She was laughing, but Vivian knew she meant it. On the desk, her tablet message notification blinked in a bip. With a lazy move of her hand, Vivian brought the desk closer to her and touched the screen to open the email.

**CONVOCATION**  
From: Human Resources  
To: Tech-id MS358825  
You are expected in Executive Office #7.43.

Vivian made a briefly embarrassed face; Petersen’s report must have reached high places, and she was about to get berated.

"It’s gonna have to wait," she replied to Margaret. "Looks like I’m expected…"

"Tonight, Mesa Gold," she ordered as a reply. "Delos is treating!"

Vivian raised her eyebrows as she stood up from the stool and folded her tablet in the same move.

"Sure about that?"

Margaret pretended to smoke her cigarette with an error ratio as well.

"I’m sorry, Abe," Vivian then told the host. "I’m leaving you with Marge… She’s kinda a pain in the ass, so… _be brave!_ "

"I’ll be doing the talking for two, I’m sure we’ll get along," Margaret gibed, pulling her own tablet from her suit’s pocket.

She was sitting on the stool without having given the smoke back to Abe when Vivian left the lab.

*

The elevator stopped in a slight shiver before opening its doors on the well lit and populated level of the executive offices; fidgeting with her folded tablet edges in her pocket, Vivian walked along the hallways, looking for the one office in which someone was waiting to bawl her out. And her mood waned, second after second, as she kept walking without finding said office. She was worried to add "being late" on her plate.

Doubt took hold of her as she faced the last office at the end of the level’s last hallway; there was only an elevator leading to a dark mezzanine office behind a bay window — doctor Ford’s office. Knots in her stomach, Vivian’s eyes darted anxiously around her.

_Could it be possible someone had made a mistake when sending her this message?_

Her throat stingy, she reopened her tablet to check it again but, no, it was exactly that. Since the secretary wasn’t in her office, Vivian felt tempted to call the administration’s central to ask if there had been a mistake but… the silly idea that she could be laughed at for daring to presume she might have an appointment with Ford stopped her. She’d wait a few minutes… And then, she’d go and see if she wasn’t in fact expected in office _34_ , instead of _43_. And if anyone was blaming her for being late, Vivian had a message proving that the mistake wasn’t hers!  
An unspeakable fear lodged deep in her guts, Vivian started to pace back and forth in front of the private elevator’s door. She even bit her nails, weighting the pros and cons of fleeing from this level and waiting to be called again… maybe with a corrected office number, or the name of the executive she had to meet.

Ten minutes had barely passed before the elevator ringed again — voices, footsteps and, at the corner of the hallway, doctor Ford left two persons with a few last words to head to his office. His eyes raised to Vivian and suddenly, she felt like a panic-striken rabbit caught in the headlights.  
Her presence didn’t seem to surprise him and he sauntered along the corridor in her direction and that of his office with a hint of a smile once he got close enough to talk to her.

"Good morning, miss Emerson," doctor Ford greeted her. "I’m sorry to have kept you waiting…"

Vivian didn’t answer a thing, woozy. Not even hello…  
Ford pressed the call button of the elevator in which he gestured her to follow him. In a short leap, the car reached the office level and opened its metal doors on a small hall. Ford pushed the glass door of his office and preceded Vivian inside; instantly, the lamps blinked on with a cold light, increasing slowly in power as the soft notes of a straight piano filled the room. Vivian shot a worried glance at the human shape sitting on the bench.

"That’s enough, Frank, thank you…" Ford said.

Immediately, the music stopped and "Frank" slightly slouched his shoulders as he put himself in sleep mode. Ford hooked his black jacket to the stand while Vivian took the time to gaze at the room’s odd decoration.

"Sit down," Ford invited her.

So, she sat in a black chair in front of the large desk covered with books and precious curios.

But, despite the vast display of personality on the desk, Vivian couldn’t take her eyes off the white faces, pined in a nook in the concrete wall, like sinister hunting trophies… Their eyes were closed, with slack features for most, and all looked a bit morbid under the office’s soft light. Vivian shivered when doctor Ford’s stern face added itself to the frame as he walked to his side of the desk — he eventually shot her a glance with the hint of a tensed smile, maybe a bit irked, before asking:

"Did your stay in the park go as you expected?"

Vivian unclenched her teeth, her hands sweaty on her pants’ fabric.

"If this is about doctor Petersen’s report, I… I wouldn’t have shot or… or hurt him," she blurted, almost without breathing. "It was just to have him back off, I… I wanted him to let me go, my injury wasn’t…"

Ford nodded and raised one hand in a pacifying gesture. Vivian stopped right away, like host under voice command. Also, it puzzled her that Cullen, or anyone else from management, wasn’t the ones taking care of the matter.

 _What could doctor Ford have to say to a tech who had a run-in with another staff member?!_ Even if it had involved the threat of a gun…  
In front of her, Ford still hadn’t sat down. Vivian’s anxiety made her boil and she drew a slow and silent breath. She held it when Ford finally spoke:

"If I called you today, it is to talk about the modifications you made in the code of a host in your care…"

All heat left Vivian’s body. She hadn’t thought for a second that her script could have been found. _How come it had been found!?_  
Pale and shaky, Vivian felt the office pitching around her as if she had just been hit behind the head again. The bleak hues made her queasy and she struggled hard to keep her focus on Ford as he spoke again:

"You have left quite a unique set of fingerprints. And there is something poetic in the way you weaved your script in…"

Vivian had been more than careful, though! She had buried it real deep, behind irregularities she had spotted in Lawrence’s code, lines that looked like old chunks not even in use anymore so deep she had to root to find them…

"H-how did you find out?" she asked, her voice withering and shaking. "I mean, I…"

She hadn’t talked about it to anyone, hadn’t written anything on the subject before a few hours back and she had put this script in several months back, now. So what had leaked only now?

"We know many things about our employees, miss Emerson," Ford replied, almost mischievous. "Maybe all there is to know…"

Vivian clenched her teeth and fists; if she was breathing a bit better, she still had knots in her stomach.

"Also, I must admit I’ve been very interested in your intentions and their results. So, when I noticed your activity, I didn’t stop you."

"I… I had no particular intention when I included this script," she stuttered, not knowing herself what she’d say next. "I wasn’t… showing off, or trying to do better than anyone, I…"

She swallowed hard, quite baffled Ford would let her talk, actually.

"I just wanted to talk with him… Of all those I w-worked with, he… I just thought he was _better built_ than… than the others."

And she shut herself up; she had said more than enough. No way she’d bring any more attention or threat upon Lawrence. And Vivian felt herself crumble under Ford’s stare.

"A long time ago, I knew someone with the same ideas," he revealed to her, in an almost tender tone, _nostalgic_ even. "Sadly, some of them caused his death…"

The disclosure in itself was sinister enough already but Ford’s silence just after made Vivian’s skin crawl. She had perceived the brief look he gave to one of the frames on his desk before focusing back on her.

"You have a brilliant mind, miss Emerson," he said with as much gravity as if he was sorry about it.

Vivian started shivering at the thought that she was simply about to get sacked. But the words that followed were quite different from what she readied herself to hear, teeth and fists clenched:

"And it would be unwise to let a talent like yours without… _supervision._ "

He didn’t add anything, locking eyes with her, as if he was waiting for her reaction.

"You… I… You aren’t going to fire me?!"

She heard her puzzlement outweighing the fear in her own voice more than she felt it in herself.

"Should I?" Ford replied.

There was something subtly insolent in all his manners — from his raised eyebrows to the relaxed way he held his shoulders — something that made one want to antagonize him, to not give in, and yet reason was pushing to question oneself; _why on earth reacting that bad?!_  
"No, miss Emerson. On the contrary… I’m offering you to join another team, _a smaller one_ , for a new project."

He stared at Vivian, frozen.

"A project for which I need people I can trust," he added still, with a little something threatening in his tone. "But, given your discretion concerning your little experiment, I’m sure we will be useful to one another on that matter…"

She nodded sluggishly, groggy and feeling even a bit upset.

"M-my… What are you gonna do to my script?" she got herself to utter as Ford was silent.

But Vivian really couldn’t care less about her script, right now — it was a convoluted way to ask, and to know, what would happen to Lawrence; a correction in his code and the deletion of his archive, a complete reset, yet another role… _a decommission_?!  
A shiver shook her and lasted when she realized she was clutching her hands hard on the fabric of her pants to prevent them from shaking. Ford’s piercing gaze locked on her gave her the impression he was trying to read her mind.

If that was what he wanted, she wouldn’t make it a secret! But Ford wasn’t asking for her opinion.

"Your _alterations_ on this host won’t be reported to management," he answered on a levelled tone. "Or removed…"

Vivian’s heart jumped in her chest — out of surprise, of relief, incomprehension, fear… All of that, and not enough time to think about it as Ford carried on:

"But you must understand that, in this new team, you won’t be working with the same hosts anymore…"

This time, Vivian was in pain. She lowered her head when tears came to her eyes. That being said, if it was the price to pay so that they’d leave Lawrence and his archive in peace, Vivian was ready to make this sacrifice. She wiped her tears with the back of her hand before raising her head to face Ford.

"What… what do you want me to do?"

Ford winced a smile, brushed his vest buttons with one hand and touched the chain of his watch. He almost looked nervous to Vivian.

"Nothing that isn’t in your skillset already, miss Emerson," Ford replied, amused. "Reviewing and monitoring a new piece of code after its implementation. First in a few selected hosts, and then more of them. If everything goes well…"

"What kind of new code?"

Vivian’s curiosity was tickled. Ford looked satisfied to hear her question and smiled again, nodding a little — he finally sat, crossing his hands in front of him, his gaze intently focused on Vivian.

"Not strictly new actually," he corrected himself, calm. "In its original version, the code has already been tested a few years ago but… the project had been interrupted. _Until now…_ And considering your own recent addition to a host’s code, I'm sure it will be familiar for you to work on this."

Heedful, Vivian would have liked to ask questions but she preferred to keep silent; let’s have him say more first.

"This is a rather peculiar update," he continued. "Which I call _'Reveries'_ …"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for having read this story!  
> Hope to see you soon for the next part of this series — _Journey Into Night!_


End file.
